OF  THE 

NIVER 


THE 


POEMS,  ODES,  SONGS, 


AND    OTHER 


METRICAL  EFFUSIONS, 


OP 


SAMUEL  WOODWORTH, 

Author  of  "  The  Champions  of  Freedom,"  fa. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED   BY  ABRAHAM  AS  TEN  AND  MATTHIAS  LOPEZ. 

1818. 


-Southern  Disirid  of  Nate-York,  ss. 

Be  it  remembered,  thai  on  the  fourth  day  of  October,  in  the 
forty -second  year  of  the.  Independence  of  the  United  Slates  of 
(L.S.)  America,  Matthias  Lopez  and  Abraham  Asten,  of  the  said  Dis 
trict,  have  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book  the  right 
whereof  they  claim  as  proprietors,  in  the  words  following,  to 
wit: 

"  The.  Poems,  Odes,  Songs,  and  other  Metrical  Effusions,  of  Samuel 
Woodworth,  author  of  the  Champions  of  >  reedom,  &c. 

Jn  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  enti 
tled,  "  An  Act  for  the  Encouragement  of  Learning,  by  securing  the 
mies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of 
ich  copies,  during  the  time  therein  mentioned  :"  and  also  to.  an  Act 
ititled  "  An  Act,  Supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled  '  An  Act  for  the 
1  ncouiagcmetit  of  Learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts, 
a  id  Books,  to  the  aulhors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the 
times  therein  mentioned,'  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts 
of  designing,  engraving,  und  etching  historical  and  other  prints." 

Clerk  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


Asten  &  Co.  Printer*. 


; 


* 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 


OF 


SAMUEL  WOODWORTH. 


Tiie  compilers  and  publishers  of  the  present  work 
have  been  actuated  by  two  motives,  which  they  wish  to 
be  particularly  and  distinctly  understood  by  its  patrons. 

First — A  desire  to  rescue  from  oblivion  the  fugitive 
productions  of  a  native  poet ; — productions,  which,  in 
their  opinion,  would  have  secured  an  English  author 
both  fame  and  opulence;  but  which,  on  this  side  the 
Atlantic,  have  been  suffered  to 

"  blush  unseen,  * 

And  waste  their  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.79 

Secondly — A  desire  to  relieve  their  unfortunate  author 
from  those  pecuniary  embarrassments  which  have  been 
created  principally  by  the  benevolence  of  his  disposi 
tion  ;  embarrassments  which  are  the  more  painful  to  the 
sufferer,  inasmuch  as  they  tend  to  oppqse  the  genuine 
ebullitions  of  a  heart  governed  by  honour,  integrity,  and 
every  virtuous  principle. 

These  motives,  we  most  solemnly  avow,  are  purely 
disinterested;  unless  self-interest  can  be  predicated  on 
love  of  country,  or  private  friendship.  Digident  of  his 
own  merits,  and  discouraged  by  the  total  failure  of 


iv  SKETCH  OF  THE 


several  similar  attempts,  the  author  shrinks  from  the 
undertaking  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  has  grant 
ed  a  reluctant  consent  that  his  friends  should  thus 
come  forward  on  theirs.  But,  as  this  consent  has  at 
length  been  obtained,  the  publishers  feel  no  hesitation 
in  submitting  their  undertaking,  with  the  motives  which 
induced  it,  to  the  consideration  of  an  impartial  and 
liberal  public. 

To  those  who  enjoy  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
Mr.  Woodworth,  the  publishers  need  not  address  them 
selves.  To  others  they  would  observe,  that  delicacy 
alone  prevents  their  delineating,  still  more  particularly, 
a  character  which  has  long  secured  him  the  friendship 
and  respect  of  a  large  circle  of  acquaintance — some  of 
whom  are  ornaments  to  their  country  and  human  nature. 
A  brief  sketch  of  his  life  and  writings,  however,  may 
not  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader. 

SAMUEL  WOODWORTH,  the  author  of  this  volume, 
was  born  in  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  at  Scituate,  in 
the  county  of  Plymouth,  on  the  13th  day  of  January, 
1785.  He  is  the  youngest  of  four  children,  all  of  whom, 
we  believe,  are  still  living.  His  father  cultivates  a 
small  farm  (the  property  of  a  second  wife)  which 
barely  produces  the  necessaries  of  life,  the  soil  and 
climate  of  that  county  being  very  unfriendly  to  agri 
culture.  The  old  gentleman  was  a  soldier  of  the  revo 
lutionary  army  ;  it  is,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  he 
was  unable  to  give  his  children  an  education  equal 
to  his  wishes,  At  the  age  of  fourteen,  the  extent  of 
our  author's  acquirements  was  a  partial  knowledge  of 
reading,  writing  and  arithmetic.  No  school  was  taught 
in  the  village,  except  during  the  three  winter  months  ; 
and,  as  a  mistaken  idea  of  economy  always  governed 
{lie  selection  of  a  teacher,  he  was  generally  as  ignorant 
as  his  pupils. 

During  the  above  period,  however,  the  subject  of 
tbis  short  biographical  sketch,  had  produced  several 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE. 


trifling  effusions  in  verse,  in  which  his  schoolmaster 
and  the  clergy  man  of  the  parish  thought  they  discover 
ed  traits  of  genius  which  deserved  encouragement  and 
cultivation.  He  was,  therefore,  with  the  approbation 
of  his  parents,  placed  under  the  care  of  this  clergyman, 
(the  Rev.  Nehcmiah  Thomas)  for  whom  our  author 
always  professes  the  greatest  respect,  esteem,  and  gra 
titude.  In  the  amiable  family  of  this  excellent  man, 
master  Woodworth  remained  one  winter,  during  which 
time  he  was  taught  the  English  and  Latin  grammars, 
and  made  some  proficiency  in  the  study  of  the  classics; 
but  the  unprofitable  employment  of  writing  verses,  con 
siderably  retarded  his  more  useful  pursuits.  He  pre 
ferred  a  puff  of  present  praise,  to  a  real  future  good  ; 
and  his  advancement  in  life  has  ever  since  been  op 
posed  by  the  same  unpropitious  attachment  to  an  art, 
which 

"  Found  Mm  poor  at  first,  and  keeps  him  so." 

The  reverend  preceptor  was  so  highly  pleased  with 
his  pupil's  docility,  quickness  of  apprehension  and 
strength  of  memory,  that  he  began  to  contrive  ways 
and  means  for  giving  him  a  liberal  education.  It  is 
true  that  his  own  salary  was  very  limited ;  yet,  after 
consulting  with  several  of  his  more  wealthy  parishioners, 
he  found  so  much  reason  to  anticipate  success,  that  he 
imparted  the  project  to  the  enraptured  boy,  who  could 
hardly  contain  his  joy  at  the  prospect  of  his  most  ardent 
wish  being  at  length  gratified. 

But  the  good  clergyman  and  his  unfortunate  pupil 
were  both  destined  to  be  disappointed.  No  one  came 
forward  to  aid  in  the  benevolent  design — time  rolled 
on — and  his  friends  began  to  remind  him  that  it  would 
be  necessary  to  learn  some  trade  by  which  he  might 
procure  a  livelihood.  His  feelings,  at  this  time,  could 
not  have  been  pleasant,  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  judge 
from  the  following  extract  from  his  poem  of 
1* 


SKETCH  OF  THE 


VEX,  published  several  years  afterward,  in  which  he 
alludes  to  the  disappointment  of  his  hopes  of  obtaining 
u  collegiate  education.  See  page  245  of  this  volume. 

Ami  here  the  muse  bewails  her  hapless  bard, 
Whose  cruel  fate  such  golden  prospects  marr'd  ; 
*For  Hope  once  whispered  to  his  ardent  breast, 
"  Thy  dearest,  fondest  wish,  shall  be  possessed  ;J? 
Unfolded  to  his  view  the  classic  page, 
And  all  its  treasures  promised  ripening  age  ; 
Showed  Learning's  flowery  path  which  led  to  Fame. 
Whose  distant  temple  glittered  with  his  name. 
'Illusive  all ! — the  phantom  all  believe, 
Though  still  we  know  her  promises  deceive  ; 
Chill  penury  convinced  the  wretch,  too  late, 
Her  words  were  false,  and  his  a  hapless  fate. 

He  chose  the  profession  of  a  Printer ;  and  after  bid 
ding  adieu  to  his  native  town,  and  his  weeping  friends, 
travelled  to  the  metropolis  of  his  native  state,  and  bound 
himself  an  apprentice  to  Benjamin  Russell,  esq.  editor 
and  publisher  of  the  Columbian  Centincl,  with  whom 
he  continued  until  the  term  of  his  apprenticeship  ex 
pired,  in  1806.  During  this  period,  he  still  employed  his 
leisure  hours  in  writing  poetry  for  the  different  period 
ical  publications  then  issued  in  Boston,  under  various 
signatures,  but  generally  that  of  SELIM.  He  has  not, 
however,  retained  copies  of  any  of  these  productions. 

On  the  expiration  of  his  apprenticeship,  he  began  to 
be  actuated  by  a  new  excitement ;  which  was  nothing 
more  or  less  tjjan  a  desire  of  taking  an  extensive  tour 
through  the  United  States,  for  the  purpose  of  writing  a 
description  of  his  travels.  He  found  it  impracticable, 
however,  to  gratify  this  inclination,  and  therefore  con 
tinued  in  the  office  of  his  former  employer  for  more 
than  a  year;  when,  through  an  easy,  yielding  disposi 
tion,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  drawn  into  some  hazard- 


AUTHOR'S  I  vn 


ous  speculations,  the  unfortunate  result  of  which  render 
ed  a  temporary  absence  from  his  native  state  necessary 
to  the  preservation  of  his  personal  liberty. 

He  now  directed  his  views  to  the  south,  as  the  course 
which  he  had  long  sighed  to  pursue  :  but  found  himself 
entirely  destitute  of  the  means  of  conveying  himself 
thither.  A  friend,  however,  to  whom  he  acknowledges 
himself  under  many  essential  obligations,  and  for  whom 
he  has  ever  professed  the  most  ardent  esteem,  furnish 
ed  him  with  sufficient  funds  to  commence  his  tour ; 
and  as  he  expected  to  procure  employment  in  the  differ 
ent  towns  through  which  he  was  to  pass,  he  had  no 
doubt  of  being  able  to  reach  New- York  without  suffer 
ing  any  inconvenience. 

This  expectation  was  the  source  of  another  severe 
disappointment;  for,  after  vainly  applying  at  every 
printing  establishment  in  the  various  villages  on  the 
road,  he  at  length  found  himself  in  the  city  of  New- 
Haven,  a  stranger,  with  blistered  feet,  and  an  empty 
purse.  Here  he  was  compelled  to  pause,  until  he  could 
receive  from  his  generous  friend  in  Boston,  a  small  re 
mittance,  (for  which  he  immediately  wrote)  that  would 
enable  him  to  reach  New- York.  Fortunately,  he  was 
genteelly  dressed,  and  found  no  difficulty  in  procuring 
decent  lodgings ;  and  as  he  had,  by  this  time,  acquired 
a  little  knowledge  of  human  nature  from  experience,  he 
was  too  prudent  to  expose  his  poverty,  and  was.  there 
fore,  treated  with  respect. 

In  a  few  clays  the  mail  brought  him  the  expected 
remittance  from  his  friend  5  which,  as  the  reader  rnav 
easily  suppose,  arrived  very  opportunely,  although  he 
had,  the  day  before,  procured  employment,  for  an  inde 
finite  term,  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Babcock. 

Finding  himself  once  more  comfortably  situated,  he 
again  gave  a  loose  reign  to  his  natural  disposition,  by 
scribbling  verses,  falling  in  love,  and' forming  acquaint 
ances.  But  though  it  must  be  confessed  that  his  tuste  for 


viii  SKETCH  OF  THE 


social  pleasures  too  often  got  the  start  of  prudence,  and 
left  economy  in  the  back-ground,  still  his  actions  were 
ever  governed  by  the  strictest  precepts  of  morality.  This 
we  assert  on  the  testimony  of  those  who  have  known 
him  intimately.,  and  enjoyed  his  confidence  for  more 
than  fifteen  years. 

In  Babcock's  office  he  continued  about  nine  months, 
contributing,  weekly,  to  the  Herald,  the  productions  of 
his  pen  ;  when  he  imprudently  resolved  to  establish  a 
literary  publication  of  his  own ;  for  the  printing  of 
which  he  procured  a  press  and  types  on  his  own  credit, 
and  commenced  the  hazardous  enterprise  with  all  those 
sanguine  hopes  which  attend  ardent  minds  untempcred 
by  experience.  We  now  behold  him  the  editor,  pub 
lisher,  printer,  and  (more  than  once)  carrier,  of  a  weekly 
paper,  entitled  the  Eelles-Lettres  Repository,  dedicated 
to  the  ladies,  and  comprising  eight  pages,  medium 
quarto — subscription  price,  two  dollars  per  year,  paya 
ble  quarterly  in  advance. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  cash  received  in 
advance  was  insufficient  to  support  the  expenses  of  the 
establishment  for  two  months ;  when  our  young  editor 
awoke  from  his  dream  of  love,  fame,  and  fortune,  to  a 
feeling  sense  of  his  real  unfortunate  situation.  The 
publication  of  the  Repository  was,  of  course,  immediately 
suspended,  the  printing  materials  returned  to  their 
original  proprietor,  and  the  inconsiderate  adventurer 
found  himself  burdened  with  debts  which  he  had  no 
means  of  discharging.  No  time  was  to  be  lost ;  and, 
after  compromising  with  some,  submitting  to  the  curses 
of  others,  lavishing  fair  promises  on  all,  and  venting  his 
feelings  in  a  poem  of  more  than  600  lines,  he  left  the  city. 
By  a  few  weeks'  employment  in  Hartford,  he  was  ena 
bled  to  return  to  Boston,  after  an  absence  of  about 
twelve  months,  and  from  thence  to  his  paternal  home— 

"  The  pale,  dejected  picture  of  despair." 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  ix 


After  spending  a  few  days  in  Scituate,  he  again  set 
out  on  foot,  in  search  of  fame  and  fortune ;  assuring  his 
friends,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  that  he  would  never 
again  revisit  the  spot  of  his  birth,  unless  he  was  accom 
panied  or  preceded  by  one  or  both  of  the  objects  of 
his  pursuit.  This  was  the  commencement  of  another 
painful  separation,  which  has  not  yet  terminated. 

We  next  find  our  author  in  Baltimore,  where,  during 
the  summer  of  1808,  the  newspapers  were  repeatedly 
enriched  with  the  productions  of  his  pen,  both  in  prose 
and  verse.  In  the  following  spring  he  proceeded  to  the 
city  of  New-York,  where  he  has  ever  since  continued 
to  reside.  In  1810,  he  formed  an  attachment  for  an  ami 
able  young  lady  to  whom  he  was  soon  afterward  united 
in  wedlock,  and  with  whom  he  continues  to  enjoy  every 
happiness  that  can  flow  from  a  union  founded  on  reci 
procal  affection,  in  a  sphere  of  life  but  one  grade  re 
moved  from  penury  and  want.  They  are,  however, 
blest  with  resigned  and  contented  dispositions,  placid 
tempers,  and  four  beautiful  children,  worth  more  to  them 
than  all  the  treasures  of  Peru. 

During  the  recent  contest  between  the  United  States 
and  Great  Britain,  Mr.  Woodworth  conducted  a  quarto 
weekly  paper,  in  New-York,  entitled  "  THE  WAR/'  and 
also,  at  the  same  time,  a  Monthly  Magazine,  called  the 
"  Halcyon  Luminary,  and  Theological  Repository," 
devoted  to  the  promulgation  of  the  doctrines  of  the  New- 
Jerusalem,  of  which  our  author  has  for  several  years 
been  a  sincere  professor,  and  for  some  time  a  licentiate 
of  that  church  in  the  city  of  New- York.  Neither  of  the 
above  publications,  however,  were  profitable  to  the  con 
ductor,  who  was  compelled  to  sell  his  office  without 
meeting  all  the  demands  to  which  the  expenses  of  the 
establishment  had  rendered  it  liable. 

Discouraged  by  these  repeated  failures,  his  naturally 
enterprising  spirit  was  depressed,  and  he  felt  no  inclina 
tion  to  commence  any  new  undertaking  on  his  own 


SKETCH  OF  THE 


responsibility.  He  therefore  applied  for  and  obtained 
the  situation  of  foreman.,  in  the  office  of  a  daily  ga/ette, 
called  the  Columbian,  where  he  continued  until  the 
first  of  March,  1816,  when  Mr.  C.  N.  Baldwin,  con 
tracted  with  him,  u  to  write  a  history  of  the  late  War^ 
in  the  style  of  a  romance,  to  be  entitled  the  CHAMPIONS 
OP  FREEDOM." 

Woodworth  was  already  known  to  the  public  as  the 
author  of  several  Poems,  which  had  met  a  very  flatter 
ing  reception  ;  but  the  character  of  a  novelist  was  alto 
gether  new  to  him,  and  he  consequently  undertook  the 
task  with  no  small  share  of  diffidence,  in  addition  to 
other  embarrassments  under  which  he  laboured  in  the 
task  assigned  him,  with  a  brief  account  of  which  we 
shall  close  this  memoir. 

In  writing  the  Champions  of  Freedom,  the  author 
was  confined,  by  the  conditions  of  his  engagement  with 
the  publisher,  within  a  compass  circumscribed  by  the 
latter.  By  these  conditions  he  was  compelled  to  con 
nect  fiction  with  truth;  and,  at  all  events,  to  give  a 
complete  and  correct  account  of  the  late  war,  however 
much  the  history  of  his  hero  and  heroine  might  suffer 
in  consequence.  But  this  is  not  all ;  it  is  a  fact,  which 
we  advance  on  the  testimony  of  persons  concerned,  that 
the  work  was  put  to  press  as  soon  as  two  sheets  were 
written  ;  and  that  the  author  was  often  compelled  to 
deliver  his  unrevised  manuscript  to  the  waiting  compo 
sitor — a  dozen  lines  at  a  time  !  This  work  was  com 
menced  in  March,  and  ready  for  delivery  in  the  October 
following  ;  during  the  most  of  which  period,  the  author 
faithfully  discharged  the  duties  of  foreman  in  the  office 
where  it  was  printed. 

In  the  few  hints  here  thrown  out,  the  reader  will  find 
a  sufficient  clue  to  guide  him  in  tracing,  through  the 
following  pages,  the  life  and  character  of  the  author. 
This  volume  may  be  considered  as  the  abstract  of  his 
soul,  without  disguise  or  embellishment.  The  different 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  xi 


situations  in  which  he  has  been  placed,  and  the  various 
feelings  resulting  therefrom,  are  all  faithfully  represent 
ed  and  expressed  in  the  tones  of  his  lyre,  as  they  are 
taught  alternately  to  change 

u  From  grave  to  gay — -from  lively  to  severe" 
All  will  immediately  perceive,  what  is  actually  the  case, 
that  he  is  candid  almost  to  a  fault ;  carrying,  as  it  were, 
his  heart  in  his  hand,  without  making  the  least  attempt 
to  conceal  a  blemish,  or  to  heighten  a  beauty.  His  at 
tachments,  it  will  be  seen,  are  sincere  and  ardent — his 
resentments,  warm  and  evanescent.  Though  an  en 
thusiast  in  love — he  is  a  philosopher  in  religion  ;  exam 
ining  every  doctrine  by  the  light  of  revelation  and  rea 
son,  before  he  adopts  it  as  an  article  of  his  faith  :  and 
however  his  creed  may  vary  from  our  own,  it  is  impos 
sible  that,  we  should  doubt  the  sincerity  of  its  professor. 
His  life  is  moral — his  conversation  chaste — his  man 
ners  modest  and  unassuming.  Without  taking  the  lead 
in  conversation,  he  always  adds  something  to  its  inter 
est  ;  and,  though  he  seldom  dazzles,  he  is  ever  sure  to 
enlighten.  Without  prepossessing  strangers  in  his  favour 
at  first  sight,  he  possesses  the  faculty  of  stealing  their 
affection,  before  they  are  aware  of  its  being  excited. 
In  one  word — he  is  a  good  citizen,  a  faithful  friend,  an 
affectionate  husband,  a  tender  parent,  and  an  honest 
man.  Of  his  merits  as  a  Poet — the  public  have  now 
an  opportunity  of  judging  for  themselves. 

A  few  brief  remarks  on  the  volume  before  us,  and  we 
have  done : 

Most  of  the  smaller  pieces  contained  in  this  volume, 
have  already  appeared  before  the  public,  in  different 
periodical  journals,  under  the  signature  of  SELIM.  But 
so  little  value  was  attached  to  them  by  the  author,  that 
lie  not  only  neglected  to  retain  copies  of  them,  but  has 
frequently  been  unable  to  recognize  his  own  mental 
offspringj  after  a  few  years'  absence,  until  convinced  of 


xii  SKETCH, 


their  legitimacy  by  the  evidence  of  circumstances,  or 
the  testimony  of  his  friends.  Our  correspondents  in 
Boston  and  Baltimore  have  recommended  more  than 
fifty  pieces  for  this  collection,  the  copies  of  which  we 
have  not  yet  been  able  to  procure;  but  if  encouragement 
should  be  given  to  publish  a  second  volume  of  Wood- 
worth's  Poems,  we  shall  spare  no  pains  to  obtain  them. 

ABRAHAM  ASTEN, 

MATTHIAS  LOPEZ. 

NEW-YORK,  March j  1818. 


WtiODWORTETS  POEJUS. 


THE  MINSTREL. 


How  happy  is  the  Minstrel's  lot, 

Whose  song  each  care  beguiles  ; 
The  frowns  of  fortune  fright  him  not, 

Nor  does  he  court  her  smiles. 
Contented  with  his  tuneful  lyre, 

His  art  can  yield  the  rest; 
He  pours  his  soul  along  the  wire, 

And  rapture  fires  his  breast. 
2 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Moral  and 


The  Minstrel. 


He  envies  not  the  power  of  kings, 

With  all  their  glittering  toys  ; 
The  tones  that  warble  from  his  strings, 

Impart  sublimer  joys. 
He  builds  a  world  of  airy  bliss, 

Where  love  erects  his  throne  ; 
And  though  his  fancy  frame  the  kiss, 

Its  sweets  are  all  his  own. 

What  though  no  wealth  his  song  repays. 

Nor  laurels  deck  his  lyre  j 
The  glow  he  catches  from  its  lays, 

Is  bliss  supremely  higher. 
What  though  his  fairy  pleasures  seem 

Illusion's  shapeless  toys — 
He  would  not  lose  so  sweet  a  dream, 

For  all  your  waking  joys. 


Sentimental.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  15 

The  Flowers  of  Life. 

THE  FLOWERS  OF  LIFE. 

The  ills  of  LIFE'S  journey  how  many  complain  of, 
Who  swear  not  a  flow'ret  is  found  in  the  road  ! 

But  the  evils  they  censure  I  laugh  at  the  pain  of, 
While  sweet  smiling  Cheerfulness  lightens  the  load. 

Though  I  find  not  a  rose,  I  indulge  not  in  sorrow, 
But  pluck  with  Contentment  a  daisy  to-day ; 

Nay,  even  a  sprig  will  feed  Hope  for  the  morrow, 
The  humblest  that  nods  to  the  zephyr  of  May. 

Let  others  dispute,  HI  avoid  their  dissention, 
•  Religious,  political,  moral,  or  such  ; 
For  the  lily  of  Peace  thus  escapes  their  attention, 
And  the  sweet  bud  of  Pleasure  which  blooms  at  my 
touch. 

The  blossom  of  Friendship,  surviving  mortality, 
I'll  carefully  cherish  and  wear  in  my  breast ; 

Though  its  picture  may  boast  brighter  hues  than  reality .> 
Its  fragrance  directs  me  when  doubtful  the  test. 

The  spirit  of  feeling,  the  soul  of  affection, 
Wildly  ardent  in  rapture,  and  melting  in  wo, 

Whatever  its  image,  attire,  or  complexion, 

With  mine  shall  commingle  in  sympathy's  glow. 


l(j  WOODWORTH'S.  Moral  and 

The  Flowers  of  Life. 

I  ask  not  his  birth-place,  whatever  the  region, 
Hot,  temperate,  frigid — despotic  or  free ; 

I  ask  not  his  politics,  creed  or  religion, 

A  Turk,  Jew,  or  Christian — he's  still  dear  to  me. 

But  ah !  there's  a  flower  which. tho'  teeming  with  nectar. 

Beneath  its  fair  aspect  screen's  Misery's  dart, 
"So  artfully  veiFd  that  it  mocks  a  detecter, 

Till  press'd  to  the  bosom  it  pierces  the  heart. 

But  still  to  a  bosom  susceptibly  placid, 

The  anguish  of  Love  will  but  heighten  its  joy: 

As  the  bev'rage  uniting  a  sweet  with  an  acid 
Is  grateful,  when  nectar  untemper'd  would  cloy. 

The  bramble  of  Avarice  others  may  nourish, 

Exhausting  Life's  soil  of  its  virtues  and  strength ; 

I'll  stray  where  the  plants  of  Beneficence  flourish, 
And  the  generous  vine  winds  its  serpentine  length. 

Let  misers  pursue  their  mean  sordid  employment, 
And  hoard  up  their  treasures  for  life's  latest  scenes  ; 

I'll  waste  not  the  moments  allow'd  for  enjoyment. 
Nor  squander  the  season  in  gaining  the  means. 

Our  object  is  happiness — ne'er  coulcl  we  miss  it, 
In  life's  varied  path,  if  the  talent  were  ours 

From  all  we  encounter  some  good  to  elicit, 

As  bees  gather  sweets  from  the  meanest  of  flowers. 


WOOD  WORTH'S. 


The  Flowers  of  Life  -  Evening. 


Then  pluck  every  blossom  of  Happiness  blooming  ; 

Leave  birds  of  contention  and  play  with  the  dove  j 
And  our  path,  soon  the  flush  of  enchantment  assuming^ 

Will  glow  an  Elysium  of  Pleasure  and  Love. 


EVENING. 

:Tis  pleasant,  when  the  world  is  still, 

And  EVENING'S  mantle  shrouds  the  vale. 
To  hear  the  pensive  whip-poor-will 

Pour  her  deep  notes  along  the  dale  ; 
While  through  the  self-taught  rustic's  flute 

Wild  warblings  wake  upon  the  gale, 
And  from  each  thicket,  marsh,  and  tree, 
The  cricket,  frog,  and  Katy-dee, 
With  various  notes  assist  the  glee, 

Nor  once  through  all  the  night  are  mute. 

The  streamlet  murmurs  o'er  its  bed, 
The  wanton  zephyrs  kiss  its  breast, 

Bid  the  green  bulrush  bend  its  head, 

And  sigh  through  groves  in  foliage  dress'd ; 

While  Cynthia,  from  her  silver  horn, 

Throws  magic  shades  o'er  EVENING'S  vest  5 
2* 


18  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Jtt  oral  md 

Evening. 

Sheds  smiles  upon  the  brow  of  Night, 
Not  dazzling,  like  Day's  shower  of  light, 
But  soft  as  dew,  which  mocks  the  sight 
Till  seen  to  sparkle  on  the  thorn. 

?Tis  then  the  hour  for  sober  thought, 

To  leave  this  little  world  behind ; 
To  traverse  paths  which  Newton  taught, 

And  rove  the  boundless  realms  of  mind  ; 
Till  Pride  reluctant  lifts  the  mask, 

And  shows  the  boasting  mortal  blind  5 
Then  the  warm  soul,  intent  to  stray, 
Would  joyful  shake  its  clogs  away, 
And,  bursting  from  its  bonds  of  clay; 

Pursue  its  glad,  progressive  task. 


TO  JULIA. 

While  Folly's  shrine  attracts  the  fair, 
Blame  not  the  beaux  who  worship  there  : 
If  gods  for  you  took  meaner  shapes, 
No  wonder  we  descend  to  apes ; 
Let  Beauty  smile  on  WORTH  alone, 
And  fops  and  fools  will  not  be  known. 


Sentimental.  WOODWORTH'S.  19 

Song. 

SONG. 

I  love  to  hear  the  flute's  sweet  notes, 
On  Zephyr's  balmy  pinion  borne  ; 
While  soft  the  melting  cadence  floats, 
And  sighing  echoes  wake  to  mourn  5 
Stealing  on  th'  enraptur'd  ear, 

At  the  closing  hour  of  day, 
Wildly  warbling,  sweet  and  clear, 
Grateful  as  affection's  tear, 
Then  in  murmurs  die  away. 

I  love  to  hear,  when  blushing  morn 

Tips  the  clouds  with  rosy  hue, 
The  new-wak'd  lark  salute  the  dawn. 
His  matin  song  of  praise  renew, 
Singing  as  he  skims  the  plain, 
Or  directs  his  flight  above ; 
Waking  all  the  tuneful  train, 
To  begin  the  sylvan  strain, 
Harmonizing  every  grove. 

I  love  to  hear,  when  mid-day  heat 
With  listless  languor  fills  the  brain, 

Deep  in  some  shady,  cool  retreat, 
The  distant  waterfall  complain, 
As  it  leaps  the  craggy  mound, 


WOODWORTH'ST  Moral  on, 


FrienJahip. 


Pouring  down  the  rocky  height., 
Foaming  o'er  the  pebbled  ground, 
Bidding  echo  swell  the  sound, 

While  it  sparkles  on  the  sight. 

But  when  with  her,  whose  image  dwells 

Within  my  glowing  breast,  I  stray, 
The  music  more  divinely  swells, 

The  lark  more  sweetly  tunes  his  lay  ; 
While  beneath  the  shade  we  rove, 

Murmuring  streamlets  sooth  the  ear, 
Thro'  the  calm  sequestered  grove, 
Echo  whispers  only  love  — 
Cupids  only,  hover  near. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

What  power  can  prop  a  sinking  soul, 

Oppress'd  with  woes  and  sick  of  grief^ 
Bid  the  warm  tear  forbear  to  roll, 
Despair's  heart-rending  sigh  control, 
And  whisper  sweet  relief  ? 

Friendship  !  sweet  balm  for  sorrowrs  smart, 
In  thee  the  soothing  power  is  found, 

To  heal  the  lacerated  heart, 

Extract  affliction's  venom'd  dart, 
And  close  the  rankling  wound. 


Sentimental.  WOODWORTH'S*.  9J. 

Friendship 

When  piercM  by  grief's  chill  tempest  through, 
The  tendril  bends  beneath  its  power, 

Thou  canst  the  broken  plant  renew : 

Thy  sacred  tear,  like  heavenly  dew, 
Revives  the  drooping  flower. 

If  Fortune  frown-— if  Health  depart, 

Or  death  divide  the  tenderest  tie, 
Friendship  can  raise  the  sinking  heart, 
A  glow  of  real  joy  impart, 

And  wipe  the  tearful  eye. 

If  foes  without  attack  our  name, 

Or  foes  within  assault  our  peace, 
Then  Friendship's  pure  celestial  flame, 
Can  soothe  the  mind — defend  our  fame, 

And  bid  assailants  cease. 

If  hopeless  Love  our  bliss  destroy, 

And  fill  the  breast  with  black  despair, 
All  peace  such  sufferers  can  enjoy, 
Is  built  by  Friendship's  kind  employ, 
Which  lessens  every  care. 

Come,  then,  sweet  power,  of  source  divine, 

For  ever  glow  within  my  breast ; 
My  earliest  friend  be  ever  mine, 
One  link  our  hearts  in  union  join, 

To  make  each  other  blest. 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Moral  and 


The  Tomb  of  Henry. 


THE  TOMB  OF  HENRY. 

Where  Hudson's  murmuring  billows 
Kiss  Jersey's  verdant  shore, 

Beneath  those  spreading,  willows 
Sleeps  Henry  of  the  moor. 

The  pride  of  all  the  plain 

Was  Anna's  chosen  swain  : 
But  Anna  weeps,  for  Henry  sleeps 

Beneath  the  weeping  willow  tree. 

They  loved  with  pure  affection, 
Their  artless  souls  were  true; 

The  promising  connexion 

Their  friends  with  rapture  view. 

And  name  the  morn  of  May 

Their  happy  wedding  day. 
But  Anna  weeps,  for  Henry  sleeps 

Beneath  the  weeping  willow  tree. 

They  hail  the  rising  morrow, 
Which  dawns  to  see  them  blest ; 

But  ah  !  ere  eve,  what  sorrow 
Fills  Anna's  lovely  breast .' 

She  sees  the  Hudson's  wave 

Become  her  Henry's  grave ; 
And  Anna  weeps,  for  Henry  sleeps 

Beneath  the-  weeping  willow  tree. 


Sentimental.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


The  Tomb  of  Henry. 


She  tears  her  flowing  tresses, 
Invokes  his  parted  breath, 

And  with  her  wild  caresses 
Invites  him  back  from  death; 

But  ah  !  her  lip's  warm  kiss 

Imparts  no  glow  to  his  ! 
And  Anna  weeps,  for  Henry  sleeps 

Beneath  the  weeping  willow  tree. 

She  sees  beneath  the  willow 

Her  lover  laid  to  rest, 
The  earth  his  nuptial  pillow, 

And  not  her  virgin  breast. 
Around  his  verdant  tomb 
The  early  daisies  bloom  ; 
There  Anna  weeps,  there  Henry  sleeps 
Beneath  the  weeping  willow  tree. 


24  WOODWORTH'S.  Moral  and 

Edwin  Delisie. 

EDWIN  DELISLE. 

The  battle  was  ended  whose  direful  commotion 

Gave  tyrants  the  victims  unclaim'd  by  the  wave. 
And  the  last  ray  of  Phoebus  illumin'd  the  ocean, 

As  it  shot  o'er  the  land  of  the  ill-fated  brave. 
The  western  breeze  wafted  the  ship  o'er  the  main, 

Far,  far  from  their  country  and  Liberty's  smile  ; 
Each  captive  enshackled  with  tyranny's  chain, 

The  noblest  of  whom  was  young  Edwin  Delisle. 

Apart  from  his  comrades,  his  manly  breast  bleeding 

With  anguish  too  piercing  for  nature  to  bear, 
Distracted  he  view'd  his  dear  country  receding, 

And  bade  it  adieu  in  a  tone  of  despair. 
Ci  O  region  of  happiness,  freedom  and  peace  ! 

Columbia,  adieu  !  not  for  Edwin  you  smile, 
For  soon  with  his  sorrows  existence  must  cease, 

For  rent  is  the  heart  of  poor  Edwin  Delisle  ! 

'•'  Eliza  !  my  angel  !  fate  dooms  us  to  sever, 

Tho'  brought  to  the  climate  that  fosters  thy  charms j 
In  sight  of  my  country,  I  lose  it  for  ever, 

In  view  of  my  love,  I  am  torn  from  her  arms  ! 
Three  times  have  the  seasons  their  circle  fulfill'd, 

Since  Edwin  was  blest  with  affection "s  sweet  smile, 
Since  press'd  to  his  bosom,  Eliza  he  held, 

As  she  siglrd  a  farewell  to  her  Edwin  Delisle. 


Sentimental.  WOODWORTH'S.  25 


Edwin  Delisle  -  Autumnal 


<•  Three  years  shall  restore  me,  I  cried,  as  we  perted  ; 

The  term  has  expired,  and  my  eye  caught  the  shore  ; 
Hope  flatterd,  then  left  to  despair,  broken-hearted, 

The  wretch  for  whom  freedom  and  joy  are  no  more. 
The  shadows  of  eve  shroud  thy  land  from  my  view, 

But  ah  !  there's  another  where  joys  ever  smile  .' 
God  of  mercy,  forgive  me  !  —  Eliza,  adieu  I" 

He  plung'd  —  and  the  waves  cover'd  Edwin  Delisle. 


AUTUMNAL  REFLECTIONS. 

The  season  of  flowers  is  fled, 
The  pride  of  the  garden  decay'd, 

The  sweets  of  the  meadow  are  dead, 
And  the  blushing  parterre  disarray'd. 

The  blossom-deck  ?d  garb  of  sweet  May. 

Enamell'd  with  hues  of  delight, 
Is  exchang'd  for  a  mantle  less  gay, 

And  spangled  with  colours  less  bright. 

For  sober  Pomona  has  won 

The  frolicsome  Flora's  domains, 

And  the  work  the  gay  goddess  begun ? 
The  height  of  maturity  gains. 
3 


26  WOOD  WORTH'S.  .Moral  and 

Autumnal    Reflection*. 

But  though  less  delightful  to  view, 
The  charms  of  ripe  autumn  appear, 

Than  spring's  richly  varied  hue, 
That  infantile  age  of  the  year  : 

Yet  now,  and  now  only,  we  prove 

The  uses  by  nature  design'd  ; 
The  seasons  were  sanction'd  to  move, 

To  please  less  than  profit  mankind. 

Regret  the  lost  beauties  of  May, 

But  the  fruits  of  those  beauties  enjoy  ; 

The  blushes  that  dawn  with  the  day, 
Noon's  splendour  will  ever  destroy. 

How  pleasing,  how  lovely  appears 
Sweet  infancy,  sportive  and  gay  ; 

Its  prattle,  its  smiles,  and  its  tears, 
Like  spring,  or  the  dawning  of  day  ! 

But  manhood's  the  season  design'd 
For  wisdom,  for  works,  and  for  use  ; 

To  ripen  the  fruits  of  the  mind, 

Which  the  seeds  sown  in  childhood  produce. 

Then  infancy's  pleasures  regret, 

But  the  fruits  of  those  pleasures  enjoy : 

Does  spring  autumn's  bounty  beget  ? 
So  the  Man  is  begun  in  the  Boy. 


Sentimental  WOODWORTH'S. 


Definition  of  Beauty — imitated  from  the  French. 

ON  BEAUTY. 

First  published  in  the  "Complete  Coiffeur." 

Beauty,  sweet  mysterious  power, 
Secret  spring  of  all  that  moves, 

Goddess  of  the  Paphian  bower, 
Mother  of  the  infant  loves  ; 

Which  can  make  the  wicked  good, 
Savage  sentiments  abolish, 

Melt  the  hard,  refine  the  rude, 

Teach  the  clown  a  courtier's  polish ; 

Which  can  make  the  simple  wise, 
Or  deprive  the  wise  of  reason  ; 

Bid  the  statesman  sink  or  rise, 
Urge  to  loyalty  and  treason  : — 

Now  exciting  modest  fear, 

Now  with  lawless  rudeness  firing : 
Prompting  to  be  faithless  here, 

There  with  constancy  inspiring. 

7Tis  the  power  that  banes  or  blesses. 
Where  shall  we  its  image  find  ? 

'Tis  the  nymph  whose  eye  expresses 
Charms  belonging  to  the  mind. 


WO^DWORTH'S.  Moral  and 


A-V.iess  to  a  Nosegay. 


TO  A  NOSEGAY. 

Little  pledge  of  fond  remembrance, 
Though  thy  tints  so  quickly  flee, 

Still  the  lovely  donor's  semblance, 
I  can  sweetly  trace  in  thee. 

Here  the  rose  and  lily  twining, 
Her  enchanting  face  bespeak, 

For  the  fairest  hues,  combining, 
Bloom  upon  her  lovely  cheek. 

In  this  blushing  pink  which  deck'd  her. 

Glows  an  emblem  of  her  lip, 
Both  distilling  balmy  nectar, 

Both  inviting  mine  to  sip. 

Tn  this  violet  I  discover 

Her  sweet  eye's  cerulean  hue, 

Like  the  brightest  star  above  her, 
Sparkling  in  ethereal  blue. 

When  within  my  bounding  bosom, 
Mary  plac'd  ye,  thus  entwin'd, 

Sweetly  whispering, "  do  not  loose  ?em,' * 
Then  what  rapture  fill'd  my  mind  I 


Sentimental  WOOD  WORTH'S.  2.9 

Address  to  a  Nosegay Female  Ornaments,  from  the  French. 

But  tyrannic  Time  is  dooming 

All  your  lovely  tints  to  fade  ; 
When  you  are  no  longer  blooming, 

Can  I  longer  trace  the  maid  ? 

Yes,  when  all  your  tints  have  fadedj 

Fragrance  still  you  will  retain  ; 
Though  your  beauties  be  degraded^ 

Charms  internal  will  remain. 


Such  is  Mary — youth  is  passing — 
All  her  beauties  must  decay, 

But  her  mind  is  still  amassing 
Charms  to  live  an  endless  day. 


FEMALE  ORNAMENTS, 

First  published  in  the  "  Complete  Coiffeur/' 

All  hues  become  a  pretty  face, 
For  beauty  needs  no  foreign  grace  j 
A  flower,  or  any  thing,  in  truth, 
Will  ornament  the  brow  of  youth, 
While  sparkling  gems  may  vainly  shine 
Where  age  and  ugliness  combine. 
O,  then,  be  wise,  ye  gentle  fair, 
And  all  the  ornaments  you  wear, 
3* 


SO  WOODWORTH'S.  Moral  and 

Female  Ornaments. 

From  Taste  instead  of  Wealth  obtain, 
Nor  longer  court  your  glass  in  vain  ; 
The  Prize  of  Beauty  (once  decreed, 
To  Paphian  Venus,  as  we  read) 
Was  not  awarded  to  the  fair 
For  any  brilliants  in  her  hair. 
No,  'twas  her  native  charms  acquired 
The  pize  her  rivals  so  desired  ; 
Her  face,  her  neck,  her  bosom,  waist, 
Her  easy  negligence  and  taste, 
Her  attitude,  her  hair,  her  eyes — 
With  these  the  goddess  won  the  prize. 
O,  then,  ye  fair,  who  seek  to  please, 
Cherish  simplicity  and  ease  ; 
Wiih  modest  taste  give  no  occasion 
To  quote  Apelles'  observation.* 
Remember,  that  a  grace  denied, 
Was  by  a  bauble  ne'er  supplied. 


*  At:  ignorant  painter  Laving  decorated  the  portrait  of  Helen  witk 
trinkets,  Ape! les  observed  that  the  picture  was  "rich  in  ornament, 
but  pour  in  beauty,"  and  that  the  "  artist  had  embellished  her  with 
because  he  had  not  abilities  to  paint  her  beautiful." 


Sentimental.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  SI 


The   Wii-jth  of  Love. 


THE  WREATH  OF  LOVE. 

Let  Fame  her  wreath  for  others  twine? 
The  fragrant  Wreath  of  Love  be  mine, 

With  balm-distilling  blossoms  wove  ; 
Let  the  shrill  trumpet's  hoarse  alarms 
Bid  laurels  grace  the  victor's  arms, 

Where  Havoc's  blood-stain'd  banners  move 
Be  mine  to  wake  the  softer  notes 
Where  Acidalia's  banner  floats, 

And  wear  the  gentler  Wreath  of  Love. 

The  balmy  rose  let  stoics  scorn, 

Let  squeamish  mortals  dread  the  thorn, 

And  fear  the  pleasing  pain  to  prove  5 
I'll  fearless  bind  it  to  my  heart, 
While  every  pang  its  thorns  impart, 

The  floweret's  balsam  shall  remove; 
For,  sweetened  by  the  nectared  kiss, 
?Tis  pain  that  gives  a  zest  to  bliss, 

And  freshens  still  the  Wreath  of  Love. 

Give  me  contentment,  peace  and  health, 
A  moderate  share  of  worldly  wealth, 

And  friends  such  blessings  to  improve  $ 
A  heart  to  give  when  Misery  pleads, 
To  heal  each  rankling  wound  that  bleeds. 


32                                 WOODWORTH'S.                      Moral  and 
The  Wreath  of  Love Nature  and  the  Passions. 

And  every  mental  pain  remove  ; 
But  with  these  give — else  all  deny — 
The  fair  for  whom  I  breathe  the  sigh, 

And  wedlock  be  a  Wreath  of  Love. 

Connubial  bliss,  unknown  to  strife, 
A  faithful  friend — a  virtuous  wife, 

Be  mine  for  many  years  to  prove  : 
Our  wishes  one,  within  each  breast 
The  dove  of  peace  shall  make  her  nest; 

Nor  ever  from  the  ark  remove  ; 
Till  call'd  to  Heav'n,  through  ages  there 
Be  ours  the  blissful  lot  to  wear 

A  never-fading  Wreath  of  Love. 


NATURE  AND  THE  PASSIONS. 

The  stranger  awoke,  and  with  wonder  surveyed 
The  unexplor'd  regions  on  which  she  was  thrown 

Rude  Chaos  the  scene — and  the  infantile  maid 
Was  Nature,  just  risen  from  sources  unknown. 

Her  form,  the  fair  abstract  of  Infinite  thought, 
The  unblemished  model  of  harmony  moved ; 

Her  accents  the  spirit  of  melody  taught, 

Her  smile  was  celestial— and  Heaven  approved* 


Sentimental.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  33 

Nature  and  the  Passions — an  Allegory. 

But  scarce  could  the  infant  existence  admire, 

When  hosts  of  rude  demons  encounter'd  the  child. 

Revenge  and  rough  Anger,  with  optics  of  fire, 
And  frenzy-struck  Terror,  shrieked  horribly  wild. 

Attended  by  Rapine,  fell  Murder  appeared, 
Led  onward  by  Avarice,  Malice  and  Hate ; 

Their  snaky  crests  Envy  and  Jealousy  rear'd, 
As  blood-stain'd  Ambition  tore  laurels  from  fate. 

This  phalanx  of  fiends,  with  Despair  in  their  train, 
With  scourges  of  scorpions  the  infant  assaiPd, 

And  pitiless  heard  the  sweet  stranger  complain, 
Deep  deluged  in  sorrow  which  nothing  avail'd. 

Compassion  beheld — and  to  regions  above, 
In  the  incense  of  sighs  her  petition  convey'd ; 

Infinity  heard,  and  the  answer  was — Love, 
Who  came  in  the  garb  of  an  angel  array'd. 

Her  presence  made  cruel  Ambition  depart, 

Hate,  Murder,  and  Rapine,  the  goddess  confessed  5 

Her  touch  palsied  Malice  and  blunted  his  dart, 
And  even  lank  Avarice  opened  his  breast. 

She  spoke — and  Revenge  was  subdued  by  the  charm ; 

She  smiled — and  the  scene  was  deserted  by  Fear ; 
She  sighed — and  pale  Jealousy  fled  with  alarm ; 

She  wept — and  rough  Anger  dissolved  in  the  tear. 


34 


WOODWORTH'S.  Moral  oft 


On  hearing  a  Discourse  from  the  Rev.  John  Hargrove. 

Her  magic  the  vulture  transformed  to  the  dove, 
And  Nature  again  was  delighted  and  blest — 

Thus  each  ruder  passion  is  subject  to  Love, 
The  genius  that  tempers  and  governs  the  rest. 


TO  THE  REV.  J.  H. 

On  hearing  him  preach  on  the  Pleasures  of  Religion. 

When  o'er  the  sacred  desk,  with  modest  grace 
And  lowly  meekness,  bends  thy  reverend  forjjr, 

While  the  great  theme  that  animates  thy  face, 
Bids  every  bosom  glow  with  transport  warm- — 

How  could  I  listen  to  the  heavenly  theme, 
Forget  the  pleasures  that  entice  me  here, 

View  human  life  a  transitory  dream, 

And  wish,  with  thee,  to  gain  a  higher  sphere  ! 

Go  on,  thou  champion  in  the  cause  of  truth, 
ArmM  by  thy  Saviour,  still  the  foe  engage  ; 

Still  charm  from  vice  the  steps  of  ardent  youth, 
And  strew  with  rosy  hopes  the  path  of  age. 


'Sentimental.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  35 

To  Miss  H.  with  a  volume  of  Montgomery's  Poems. 

TO  MISS  H****, 

With  a  miniature  volume  of  Montgomery's  Poems,  as 
published  in  1807. 

Accept,  lovely  maid,  of  this  little  bequest, 
An  advocate  certain  my  suit  to  obtain  ; 

To  the  generous,  feeling,  susceptible  breast, 
The  muse  of  MONTGOMERY  pleads  not  in  vam. 

And  when  that  sweet  eye  of  cerulean  hue, 

Drops  the  warm  tear  of  pity  for  virtue  distress'd, 

Then  think  of  the  donor,  whose  sympathy  true, 
The  number  thou  shed'st  will  engrave  on  his  breast. 

While  Switzerland's  Wanderer*  draws  on  thy  heart 
For  the  tribute  which  sentiment  e'er  must  bestow .; 

Then  think  of  thy  friend,  in  a  far  distant  part, 
A  Wanderer,  pressed  with  his  portion  of  wo. 

And  when  o'er  the  Grave  thou  art  bending  with  pain, 
But  a  pain  not  unmingled  with  pensive  delight, 

Let  one  gem  of  pity  be  shed  for  the  swain 

Who  is  buried  to  pleasure,  when  banish' d  thy  sight. 


*  The  words  in  italics  are  the  titles  of  the  several  poems  which  this 
ittle  volume  contained. 


36  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Moral  and 

To  Miss  H.  with  a  volume  of  Montgomery's  Poems. 

While  the  tones  of  the  Lyre  brighten  sadness  to  joy, 
And  thou  hear  st  with  fond  rapture  its  solacing  lays, 

Remember  the  youth  whose  delightful  employ 
Is  to  sing  to  his  Lyre  while  it  warbles  thy  praise. 

The  Remonstrance  to  Winter  is  heard  and  obey?d, 
And  Flora  unfolds  every  beautiful  hue  ; 

But  remember,  tho7  nature  in  spring  is  array'd, 
To  me  all  is  Winter  while  absent  from  you. 

The  Fowler's  simplicity  cannot  but  please, 
Religion  has  beauties  that  never  can  cloy  ; 

While  the  sweet  Joy  of  Grief  enraptures  with  these, 
Think  of  him  who  has  likewise  perus'd  them  with  joy. 

Alexandria's  fierce  Battle  admire,  not  approve, 
But  haste  from  the  scene  to  the  Pillow  for  rest ; 

On  the  pinion  of  fancy  then  pensively  rove, 

But  let  thy  friend's  image  still  dwell  in  thy  breast. 

View  Brown  with  compassion,  breathe  pity's  soft  sigh. 
For  sufferings  unmerited,  cruel,  unjust  ; 

But  smile  on  the  Thunder-storm  rolling  on  high, 
;Tis  the  voice  of  thy  God,  but  he  wars  not  with  dust. 

Hail  the  brave  Volunteers  of  fam'd  Albion's  isle, 
And  cherish  the  patriot  glow  in  thy  breast  ; 

St.  Marias  ancient  Vigil  a  tear  may  beguile, 

Thy  friend  then  remember,  like  Edwin  distressed, 


Sentimental.                   WOOD  WORTH'S.  37 

Montgomery's  Poems Laura  of  Flathush. 

The  Field-flower  and  Snow-drop  have  charms  for  thine 
eye, 

Sweet  emblems  of  innocence,  virtue  and  love — 
!But  the  Common  Lot  waits  us — we  live  but  to  die  $ 

And  die  but  to  live  in  the  mansions  above. 


Remember  thy  friend — is  the  donor's  request, 
And  this  Advocate  proffers  his  suit  to  obtain  ; 

To  the  generous,  feeling,  susceptible  breast, 
The  muse  of  Montgomery  pleads  not  in  vain. 


FLATBUSH. 

I  came  when  the  beauties  of  Summer  were  glowing 

On  the  bosom  of  Nature,  the  fields  and  the  groves, 
When   the   balm-freighted    zephyrs    were   pleasantly 

blowing, 

And  the  sweet  woodland  choristers   warbled  their 
loves  : 

But  when  I  beheld  the  angelic  expression 

That  play'd  o'er  the  visage  of  I.  aura,  the  while, 

"I  said — for  my  bosom  approved  the  confession — 
'Tis  here  that  pleased  Nature  has  borrowed  her  smile. 
4 


38  WOODWORTH'S.  Moral  and 

Miss  Laura  A******,  of  Flatbush,  L.  I. 

And  I  came  when  the  tempests  of  Winter  were  raging 
O'er  the  frost-whiten'd  meadows,  and  ravaged  the 

plains  5 

When   the  fields  nor  the  woodlands  were  longer  en 
gaging? 
Nor  the  groves  longer  echo'd  their  choristers7  strains. 

And  I  sigh'd  at  the  change,  while  in  accents  of  sorrow, 
I  ask'd  where  the  roses  of  Summer  were  fled ; 

Grief  rais'd  her  moist  eye,  and  then  pointed  to  Laura — 
Ah!  cruel  disease  ! — Laura's  roses  were  dead ! 

How  sadly  expressive  was  each  pallid  feature ! 

How  meek  shone  her  eye  ?neath  a  forehead  of  snow  ! 
like  an  angel  appeard  the  sweet  suffering  creature, 

Just  quitting,  for  heaven,  the  regions  below. 

And  I  thought,  if  some  youth  was  but  blest  with  her 
favour, 

How  might  he  exclaim,  in  the  accents  of  wo, 
Take  me  with  her  to  heaven,  if  nothing  can  save  her. 

Or  stay,  lovely  angel !  my  heaven  below ! 


Sentimental.  WOODWORTH'S.  39 

The  Meeting or  the  Husband's  Return. 

THE  MEETING. 

I  saw  them  meet — the  pangs  of  absence  o'er, 
And  MEMORY  holds  a  picture  of  the  place  : 

?Twas  at  the  threshold  of  her  cottage  door, 
ELIZA  met  her  husband's  warm  embrace. 

How  animated  shone  her  eager  eye, 

Where  joy's  delicious  tear  suspended  hung  ! 

Her  bosom  heav'd — but  pleasure  rais'd  the  sigh  ; 
Her  voice  was  mute — but  bliss  had  seal'd  her  tongue. 

Press'd  in  his  arms,  the  chaste  connubial  kiss, 
Her  nectar'cl  lips  by  turns  received  and  gave  5 

Then,  as  ashamed  of  the  excessive  bliss, 

Her  love-died  blush  she  bids  his  bosom  save. 

But  recollection  whisper'd  yet  a  joy 

'Twas  hers  to  give  ;  and  from  the  trance  she  starts—- 
Puts  in  his  arms  their  little  infant  boy, 

Love's  precious  pledge,  that  closer  binds  their  hearts. 

While  round  their  sire  the  elder  prattlers  cling ; 

Beg  for  a  kiss  ;  their  little  tales  recite  ; 
Each  emulous  some  trifling  boon  to  bring, 

And  share  their  parents'  unalloy'd  delight. 


40  WOODWORTH'S.  Moral  and 


The  Meeting Fashion. 


Forgotten  now  is  separation's  smart, 
Or  but  remembered  as  the  zest  of  joy  ; 

'Her  smiles  are  sunshine  to  his  gladden'd  hearts 
And  love-created  fears  no  more  annoy. 

So,  wrapped  in  night,  the  lonely  pilgrim  views 
AURORA,  blushing,  throw  her  veil  aside  ; 

And,  fill'd  with  joy,  his  lighted  path  pursues, 
Whence  erst  bewilder'd  he  had  wander'd  wide. 

And  is  it  joy  that  fills  my  eyes  ?  I  cried — 
Ah,  no  ! — regret,  that  such  was  not  my  lot ; 

But  yet  to  envy  'twas  so  near  allied, 

J  blushrd — and  sighing,  left  the  happy  spot. 


FASHION. 

To  tyrant  Fashion  all  must  yield, 

He  rules  with  sway  despotic, 
And  he  who  dares  contest  the  field, 

Must  be  indeed  Quixotic. 
But  though,  when  he  appears,  we  must. 

Like  courteous  slaves,  receive  him ; 
The  wise  will  ne'er  embrace  him  Jirst, 

Nor  be  the  last  to  leave  him. 


Sentimental.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  41 

Love  in  Camp or  the  Rat-tat-too. 

LOVE  IN  CAMP. 

Sounds  of  war  were  swelling  wild^ 

Fearful  notes  the  bugle  blew  j 
Infant  Love,  a  timid  child, 

Trembled  at  the  rat-tat-too. 
But  inspired  by  Valour's  breath, 

Love  with  war  familiar  grew, 
Fearless  view'd  the  strife  of  death; 

Smiled  to  hear  the  rat-tat-too. 

Swift  a  shaft  at  Valour's  heart, 

From  the  infant's  bow-string  flew; 
Valour  heeded  not  the  dart, 

Listening  to  the  rat-tat-too. 
Yet  that  dart  was  tipp'd  with  red, 

Ella's  heart-blood  lent  the  hue  5 
But  in  vain  had  Ella  bled, 

Valour  loved  the  rat-tat-too. 

Through  the  camp  the  infant  stray'd, 

Hope  receding  now  from  view  5 
Secret  griefs  his  sighs  betray'd, 

Mingling  with  the  rat-tat-too. 
Valour  will  not  yield  to  Love, 

Hope  to  Ella  bids  adieu  ; 
Sad,  desponding,  widow'd  dovey 

Listless  to  the  rat-tat-too. 
4* 


42  WOODWORTH'S.  Amatory, 

To  Catharine — Yes,  or  No? 

TO  CATHARINE. 

The  groves  their  vernal  sweets  have  lost, 

No  blossoms  now  perfume  the  gale, 
The  lawns  are  silver'd  o'er  with  frost, 

And  autumn  lingers  in  the  vale. 
But  do  the  seasons,  as  they  roll, 

Affect  the  heart  with  joy  and  wo  ? 
Can  autumn  thus  depress  the  soul  5 

Or  spring  elate  it  ? — Yes,  or  no  ? 

The  grove  again  shall  yield  its  shade, 

And  vernal  sweets  perfume  the  gale, 
The  modest  violet  deck  the  glade, 

And  richest  verdure  clothe  the  vale. 
But  will  the  flower  of  hope  survive, 

And  gain  from  spring  a  brighter  glow  ? 
A  smile,  sweet  maidr  would  bid  it  thrive, 

Wilt  thou  bestow  it  ? — Yes,  or  no  ? 


Amatory.  WOODWORTH'S.  43 

A  Kiss  defined Variety. 

A  KISS. 

Does  Eliza  remember,  ere  fashion  bad  taught  her 
To  lend  the  heart's  impulse  hypocrisy's  guise, 

How  oft,  in  our  plays,  to  my  bosom  I  caught  her, 
And  wonder'd  a  touch  could  so  brighten  the  eyes? 

Familiar  to  me  is  the  sweet  recollection, 

How  the  warmth  of  her  lips  taught  my  visage  to  glow. 
While  the  flush  that  responsive  illum'd  her  complexion, 

Seem'd  roses  promiscuously  scatter'd  on  snow. 

And  I  ask'd,  from  what  source  sprang  the  feelings  which 
raptured, 

And  bade  through  my  pulses  such  ecstacies  roll, 
The  charm  which  reflection  bewilder'd  and  captured — i 

A  Kiss  was  the  answer — it  melted  my  soul. 


VARIETY. 

The  noblest  talent  Love  can  claim,  • 
Is  never  to  appear  the  same  ; 
For  'tis  Variety  alone, 
That  props  the  urchin-tyrant's  throne. 
So  do  the  seasons  as  they  range, 
Afford  new  pleasure  when  they  change  5 
The  sweetest  flower  would  cease  to  cheer? 
Should  fragrant  spring  bloom  all  the  year. 


44  WOODWORTH'S.  Amatory. 

The  Journey  of  Love. 

THE  JOURNEY  OF  LOVE. 

Now  Anteros  lend  me  thy  gossamer  pinion, 

And  teach  me  the  speed  of  Armata's  sweet  dove, 

I  fly  to  the  seat  of  thy  blissful  dominion, 

For  Catharine's  breast  is  the  mansion  of  love. 

No  longer  shall  Fortune  be  whelm'd  with  invective, 
If  my  journey  the  goddess  but  bless  with  her  smile.; 

I  heed  not  its  length,  while  I  view  in  perspective 
The  sharer,  rewarder,  and  end  of  my  toil. 

If  love  has  its  sorrows,  yet,  who  would  refuse  ?em, 
So  sweetened  with  rapture^  so  mingled  with  joy  ? 

What  mortal  the  rose  would  discard  from  his  bosom, 
Lest  the  thorn  which  attends  it  should  chance  to 
annoy  ? 

Separation  was  such — but  the  wound  it  inflicted 
Will  soon  be  forgot  in  the  glow  of  a  kiss ; 

Though  grief  on  the  visage  has  oft  been  depicted, 
The  tear  shall  soon  glisten  a  tribute  of  bliss. 

Ah !  still  on  my  vision  the  object  increases  f 
The  cottage  of  peace  and  affection  I  spy! 

Hope  smiles,  as  my  bosom,  unconscious,  releases 
The  murmur  of  wishes  respired  in  a  sigh. 


Amatory.                        WOOD  WORTH'S.  45 

The  Journey  of  Love Good  Morning. 

Now,  now  am  I  blest ! — But,  ah  !  language  it  fails  me, 
No  pencil  can  paint  love's  ecstatic  alarms : 

'Tis  she  that  approaches — 'tis  Catharine  hails  me, 
She  gazes  !  she  smiles  ! — I  am  press'd  in  her  arms ! 


GOOD  MORNING. 

The  blushing  precursor  of  Phoebus  expands 

The  crystalline  portals  of  light  ; 
And  scatters  the  dew-dripping  tints  from  her  hands. 

To  crimson  the   mantle  of  Night. 
Sleep  shakes  his  soft  pinions  and  soars  to  the  sky, 

And  with  rapture  I  greet  my  dear  Jane — 
Whose  health-flushing  visage  and  soul-beaming  eye? 

Aurora  but  mimics  in  vain — 

Good  Morning. 

Thy  presence  to  me  is  the  dawning  of  light, 
And  pleasure  illumines  my  breast  5 

But,  ah  !  in  thy  absence  morn  changes  to  night- 
Hope  sinks  like  the  star  of  the  west. 

Then  let  us,  my  fair  one,  the  moments  improve 
Which  morning  allows  us  for  bliss, 

Let  the  new-risen  clay  be  devoted  to  love, 
And  in  earnest  accept  of  a  kiss — 

Good  Morning* 


46  WOODWORTH'S.  Amatory. 

Good  Morning- Giving  and  Receiving. 

When  evening  returns,  and  in  slumber  I  lie, 

Then  fancy  the  scene  shall  retrace  ; 
Shall  light  up  anew  the  soft  glance  of  thine  eye, 

And  restore  me  thy  blissful  embrace. 
And  when  through  thy  lattice  Aurora's  tints  play, 

O  fly  to  the  arms  of  thy  swain, 
With  him  taste  the  sweets  of  the  infantile  day, 

And  hear  him  repeat  on  the  plain — 

Good  Morning. 


GIVING  AND  RECEIVING. 

The  suppliant  departed,  while   gratitude's  tear 
In  his  joy-beaming  eye  was  suspended  ; 

My  heart  bounded  light,  for  my  Lydia  was  near, 
Who  thus  the  donation  commended  : 

fs  The  bosom  which  softens  at  Misery's  wound, 
"  And  proffers  the  balsam  to  heal  him, 

et  With  the  glow  of  contentment  must  joyfully  bound- 
"  And  such  is  the  breast  of  my  Selim." 

w  But  which,"  I  exclaim'd,  as  the  fair  one  I  press'd, 
While  her  eye  with  affection  was  brighten'd, 

ft  Receiver  or  donor,  which  think  you  most  blest  ? 
66  Whose  joy  by  the  action  most  heighten'd  ??> 


Amatory.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Giving  and  Receiving-  -  Harriet's  Favourite  Poems.    - 

"  The  being,  she  answer'd,  you  saved  from  despair, 
"  Who  tastes,  by  the  sudden  reversion, 

"  Of  exquisite  bliss  a  proportionate  share, 
u  To  the  depth  of  his  recent  immersion." 

Her  answer  was  sweeten'd  with  love's  nectar'd  kiss, 
And  my  breast  with  the  transport  was  heaving, 

As  I  owu'd,  with  a  sigh,«that  though  giving  was  bliss, 
It  was  faint  to  the  joy  of  receiving. 


HARRIET'S  FAVOURITE  POEMS. 

When  I  survey  my  Harriet's  speaking  face, 

The  smiles  that  light,  the  tears  that  fill  her  eyes, 

The  frown  of  anger,  or  the  rose's  grace, 
I  view  the  Seasons  in  succession  rise. 

When  a  glance  of  affection  her  optics  impart, 

The  Pleasures  of  Hojje  are  alive  in  my  heart. 


Lost  in  the  theme,  when  bending  o'er  her  lyre, 
She  wakes  the  tones  which  fascinate  the  sou!. 

I  view  the    tlt/ixtrel  that  1  most  admire, 
And  list  in  rapture  while  her  numbers  roll. 

When  absent  I  yield  to  reflection's  sveet  power. 

The  Pleasures  of  Memory  shorten  the  how. 


48  WOODWORTH'S.  Amatory. 

Harriet's  Favourite  Poems. 

If  she,  with  fondness,  chide  my  ardent  kiss, 
And,  with  a  soft'ning  smile,  forbearance  ask, 

Or  bid  me,  with  a  frown,  forego  the  bliss, 
I  bow  submission,  but  neglect  the  Task. 

For  should  she  condemn  me  the  bliss  to  forego, 

In  the  Grave  would  I  seek  for  an  end  of  my  wo. 


When  Fancy  through  her  own  creation  strays, 
To  promised  joy  delighting  still  to  cling, 

From  her  alone,  my  glowing  bosom  says, 
The  Pleasures  of  Imagination  spring. 

But  when  Curiosity  rises  to  vex, 

Then  Paradise  Lost  I  impute  to  the  sex. 

I  told  her  thus — when  in  her  snowy  arms, 
My  yielding  form  the  angel  gently  strain?dfj 

And  I,  bewilder'd  with  a  maze  of  charms, 
Sigh'd  in  her  ear — 'tis  Paradise  Regained  ! 

Retired  from  elysium  the  scene  to  retrace, 

My  Night  Thoughts  re-pictured  the  tender  embrace. 


Amaleir.  WOODWORTH'S.  49 

The  Hartford  Rose-bud— addressed  to  Miss  M.  S******d. 

THE  ROSE-BUD. 

On  the  banks  of  Connecticut's  proud  winding  stream, 
I  pensively  wan  tier  "d,  a  stranger,  unknown  ; 

AS  the  hill-tops  around  caught  the  sun's  parting  beam, 
And  eve's  sable  vest  o'er  the  valleys  was  thrown. 

A  blushing  young  Rose-bud  attracted  mine  eye, 
Half  opened,  its  bosom  perfumed  the  soft  air, 

As  it  bow'd  in  response  to  the  zephyr's  sweet  sigh, 
And  a  new-fallen  dew-drop  was  glittering  there. 

As  I  tasted  its  fragrance,  I  spoke  to  the  flower, 
"  O  flourish,  sweet  bud !  in  my  bosom,"  I  cried  ; 

**"'  Thy  beauties  will  solace  life's  turbulent  hour, 
"  Grief  loses  its  gall,  when  to  sweetness  allied." 

I  said,  and  had  pluck'd  it,  to  bloom  in  my  breast, 
That  breast  stung  by  anguish  and  torn  by  despair  ! 

T3ut  my  hand  was  restrain'd,  and  my  bosom  address 'd — 
My  heart  caught  the  whisper — "  O  pilgrim,  forbear  I" 

"  Taste,  taste  of  its  sweetness,  but  mar  not  the  flower, 
"  O  stranger  f  a  wanderer  still  thou  must  roan  • — 

fi  Once  torn  from  its  stalk,  it  will  bloom  but  an  hour ; 
"  Then  leave  it;  O  pilgrim  !  'twill  ilouiish  at  home* 
5 


50                                  WOODWORTII'S.  Amatory. 

The  Hose-bud The  Pilgrim. 

"  But,  ah  !  if  transplanted,  a  bosom  of  wo 

"  Will  chill  the  fair  bud,  in  a  lar-uislaiit  clime, 

•"  A  soil  deep  envelop'd  in  winter's  cold  snow, 

"  VV  ill  cause  the  young  stranger  to  droop  in  its  prime." 

I  obey'd — but  my  eye  dropp'd  a  tear  on  the  rose — 
That  rose,  lovely  j^irl  !  is  an  emblem  of  you  5 

But  driven  from  joys,  1  submit  to  my  woes, 
And  think  of  your  name  as  I  bid  them  adieu ! 


THE  PILGRIM, 

To  his  fail'  fellow-traveller  from  Brookfield  to 
Hartford. 

You  saw,  dear  Mary,  or  you  might  have  seen, 

How  the  poor  steeds  that  whirl'd  us  down  from  B 

Were  lash'd  and  urged  along,  with  slackened  rein, 
Or  check'd  and  shortened  when  they  ran  too  free. 

So  I,  my  girl,  though  (Heaven  be  praised)  no  horse, 
Am  sometimes  lash'd  and  sometimes  curb'd  by  Fate, 

Now  hurried  forward  with  resistless  force, 

Now  check'd,  and  forced  against  my  will  to  wait. 


Amatory.  WOODWORTH'S.  51 

The  Piljrrim— addressed  to  Miss  Mary  H*********gh. 

I  fondly  hoped  to  pass  my  days  at  home, 
And  only  tread  my  native  rural  plains ; 

But  Fate  forbade,  and  I  am  doom'd  to  roam, 

GalFd  by  her  whip,  and  straightened  with  her  reins. 


I  gain'd  an  inn,  that  promised  food  and  rest, 
For  Joy  and  Peace  were  pictured  on  the  sign  5 

I  saw  the  turtle  settling  in  her  nest, 

And  thought  such  happiness  might  soon  be  mine. 

Vain,  foolish  thought !  for  crack  went  madam's  lash, 
And  I  was  driven  from  the  loved  abode  ; 

O'er  bog  and  moor,  through  thick  and  thin  to  dash, 
Without  e'en  hope  to  cheer  me  on  the  road. 

And  now,  though  fostered  by  your  generous  care, 
Blest  with  your  smiles,  and  friendship's  tenderest  tie., 

Yet,  Jehu-like,  she  drives  me  to  despair — 
Adieu,  dear  girl !  for  I  again  must  fly. 


WOODWORTH'S.  Amatorr. 


The  Sigh—addressed  to  Miss  M.  H. 


THE  SIGH. 

Softly  stealing  from  her  breast 
Ere  its  lovely  keeper  knew. 
Forth  a  sigh  emerging  flew  : 

I  received  the  trembling  guest, 
Thrilling  in  my  rapturd  ear, 

Sinking  on  my  heart  to  rest, 
With  ecstatic  throbbings  dear. 

Ah  !  dear  Mary,  luckless  fair, 
You  perceived  its  flight  too  late  : 

Guard  such  telltale  rogues  with  care  : 

For  the  tidings  which  they  bear 
Cast  the  colour  of  our  fate. 

Think  you  what  it  told  my  heart  ? 

'Twas  the  messenger  of  peace, 

Bidding  every  doubt  to  cease, 
Eve^  sorrow  to  depart ; 

'Twas  the  olive-bearing  dove. 
Guiding  hope  into  the  ark  ; 

?Twas  the  harbinger  of  love. 
Flitting  from  that  warm  recess 

Where  thy  thoughts  in  secret  dwell. 
AVhat  thy  lips  would  ne'er  confess, 
Though  thy  suppliant  sure  to  bless. 

This  sweet  fugitive  will  tell. 


Amatory.  WOODWORTH'S.  53 

The  Sigh To  Mary. 

Hark  !  it  whispers  to  my  heart — 

"  Hence,  with  every  servile  fear  5 

Hope  alone  may  revel  here  5 
Doubt  and  cold  distrust,  depart. 

Her's  as  it  responsive  heaves, 
Shall  confess  the  urchin's  dart 

Rapture  with  the  anguish  leaves. " 
Tell  me  not  I  dream  of  bliss, 

If  I  do,  still  let  me  sleep, 
Snatch  me  not  from  joy  like  this 
The  reality  to  miss  ; — 

Never  wake  a  wretch  to  weep. 


TO  MARY, 

On  hearing  her  sing  the  air,  from  Blue  Beard }  of 
"  When  pensive  I  thought  on  my  love." 

When  torn  from  the  arms  of  her  swain, 

In  circles  of  splendour  to  move, 
Sweet  FATIMA  thus  would  complain, 

As  pensive  she  thought  on   her  love. 

A  palace  for  her  had  no  charms, 
Unshared  by  the  youth  she  adored ; 

But  press'd  in  her  lov?d  SELIM'S  arms, 
A  cottage  true  bliss  could  afford. 
5* 


:>4                                 WOOD  WORTH'S.  Amatory. 

To  Mary The  Reconciliation,  a  Rondeau. 

Then  should  fickle  Fortune  ordain, 
Your  SELIM  from  hence  to  remove. 

Will  you,  while  you  warble  that  strain, 
Bestow  a  fond  thought  on  your  love  ? 

Some  seraph  will  waft  me  the  sound, 
And  whisper  the  joy  to  my  heart ; 

Though  absence  must  cruelly  wound, 
I'll  listen,  forgetting  its  smart. 

Then  grant  that  such  joy  I  may  find, 
Should  fate  ever  tear  me  from  thee  ; 

For  me  let  the  strain  be  design'd — 
Be  FATIMA  only  to  me. 


THE  RECONCILIATION. 

And  did  I  upbraid  you  my  love  ? 

0  pardon  the  fault  I  deplore, 
For  while  you  thus  sweetly  reprove, 

1  feel  I  can  never  doubt  more. 
.No— no — no — I  shall  never  doubt  you  more* 

I  own  I  suspected  your  truth, 
And  envied  a  rivaPs  success  $ 

For  jealousy  pictured  a  youth 

Whom  pity  would  prompt  you  to  bless. 
Whom  pity — pity — pity  would  prompt  you  to  bless. 


Amatory,  WOODWORTH'S.  55 

The  Reconciliation — a  Rondeau. 

And  did  I  upbraid  you,  my  love  ? 

0  pardon  the  fault  I  deplore ; 
For  while  you  thus  sweetly  reprove, 

1  feel  I  can  never  doubt  more. 

No — no — no — I  shall  never  doubt  you  more. 


My  doubts  I  now  give  to  the  wind, 
For  Mary  is  constant  as  fair, 

Though  lately  I  thought  her  unkind, 
And  gave  myself  up  to  despair. 

Despair — despair — despair — and  gave  myself  up  t« 
despair. 

And  did  I  upbraid  you,  my  love  ? 

0  pardon  the  fault  I  deplore  ; 
For  while  you  thus  sweetly  reprove, 

1  feel  I  can  never  doubt  more. 

No — no — no — I  shall  never  doubt  you  more. 


NOTE. 


Many  of  the  foregoing  pieces  having  appeared  in 
different  periodical  publications,  under  the  signature  of 
SELIM,  produced  the  following  poetical  Cm-respondent 
between  the  author  and  an  anonymous  female  writer, 
assuming  the  name  of  ZORAYDA.  The  New-York  Co 
fymbian  was  made  tJie  vehicle  of  this  correspondence. 


ANONYMOUS.  57 

Zorayda  to  Selirn. 


TO  SELIM. 

ENCHANTING  MINSTREL  !  to  whose  lay 
My  pulses  would  responsive  play 
Till  reason  yield  her  genial  sway 

To  fascination's  power  ; 
I  grieve  that  Fate  should  be  so  hard, 
That  Fortune  shuns  a  modern  bard, 
Who  vainly  asks  of  Fame  reward, 

A  laurel  or  a  flower. 

You  wake  your  magic  lyre  in  vain, 
And  fruitless  bid  its  chords  complain  5 
All  listen,  all  admire  the  strain, 

And  wonder  whence  it  flows  : 
But  were  the  world  inform'd  with  truth. 
Patrons  would  never  raise  the  youth, 
Envy  would  show  his  venom'd  tooth, 

And  scorn  increase  his  woes. 

Such  is  a  modern  poet's  fate, 
Unless  his  sphere  is  with  the  great, 
Where  gold  will  give  his  genius  weight, 

And  purchase  smiles  of  Fame. 
But,  ah  !  a  bard,  with  soul  of  fire, 
Tho'  blest  with  Pope's  or  Milton's  lyre. 
If  lowly  born,  must  scarce  aspire 

To  lisp  her  envied  name. 


58  WOODWORTH'S.  Amatory. 


Selira  to  Zorayda. 


Then,  SELIM,  throw  thy  lyre  away. 
Nor  deign  to  waste  its  dulcet  lay, 
On  souls  who  cannot,  while  you  play, 

Appreciate  the  strain  $ 
Whose  prejudice  forbids  to  know 
The  sweets  which  in  your  numbers  flow, 
Inspiring  joy,  relieving  wo, 

And  lessening  every  pain. 


TO  ZORAYDA. 

Does  SELIM  wake  his  lyre  in  vain, 
And  fruitless  breathe  the  pensive  strain, 
Because  his  brows  no  laurel  gain, 

And  he  obscurely  sings  ? 
As  well  might  fair  Zorayda  say 
The  sylvan  fountains  vainly  play, 
Where  forests  hide  their  darkened  way, 

And  rocks  conceal  their  springs. 


But,  lovely  minstrel  I  learn  to  know, 
Their  streamlets  kiss  the  meads  below, 
Who  drink,  unconscious  whence  they 
And  thence  derive  their  smile  ; 


Amatojy.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  59 

be! ini  to  Zorayda. 

So  may  his  song,  perhaps,  impart 
A  glow  of  transport  to  the  heart, 
Bid  rapture  smile,  or  grief  depart, 
And  lie  unknown  the  while. 


Do  SELIM'S  numbers  flow  in  vain, 
Because,  as  hundreds  more  complain, 
FORTUNE  will  ne?er  reward  the  strain, 

Nor  gild  his  vocal  reed  ? 
Then,  where  Canary  blooms  in  spring, 
Her  golden  tenants  vainly  sing, 
If  hunger  urge  to  spread  the  wing, 

Or  stoop  to  peck  the  seed. 

But  know,  where'er  the  songster  rove, 
The  strain  he  warbles  through  the  grove. 
Delights  himself,  or  charms  his  love, 

Whose  charms  the  strain  inspire  : 
So  I  the  lingering  hour  beguile, 
Lean  o'er  my  harp,  entranced  the  while, 
And  gain,  from  her  I  love,  a  smile, 

Whose  beauty  tunes  my  lyre. 

No,  SELIM  does  not  sing  in  vain, 
If  fair  ZORAYDA  hear  the  strain, 
And  in  her  matchless  numbers  deign 
To  plead  the  poet's  cause  j 


ANONYMOUS.  Patriotic. 


Zorayua  to  Seliin. 


For  others  FATE  may  trophies  pile, 
Serener  joys  are  his  the  while  ; 
lle'asks  no  fortune  but  her  smile, 
No  fame  but  her  applause. 


TO  SELIM. 

Go  on,  contented  youth  !  —  "Zorayda  err'd  — 
Resume  your  lyre  and  charm  the  Paphian 

Nor  beg  the  boon,  but  claim  your  just  reward, 
The  admiration  of  the  sex  you  love. 

But  if  the  happy  fair  who  tunes  your  lyre, 
Reciprocate  the  flame  her  Selim  sing's, 

Let  Love  not  always  whisper  from  the  wire, 
But  loftier  numbers  animate  the  strings. 


Your  country's  glory  claims  exalted  praise, 
In  years,  an  infant,  but  matured  in  fame  : 

Heroes  are  her's  whose  acts  deserve  your  lays, 
Then  gild  your  rising  song  with  FREEDOM'S  name. 

When  foreign  despots  dare  usurp  the  deep, 
And  add  new  wrongs  to  insults  unredress'd, 

With  bolder  hand,  the  chords  indignant  sweep, 
And  vengeance  wake  in  every  Freeman's  breast. 


patriotic.  ANONYMOUS.  6l 

Zerayda  to  Selim. 

And  should  our  injuries  at  length  demand 
BELLONA'S  banner  once  again  unfurl'd, 

Then  let  the  strain,  which  fires  the  patriot*t>and, 
Swell  like  our  thunders  which  shall  shake  the  world. 

The  sword  of  vengeance  will  not  gleam  in  vain, 
Nor  vainly  burst  our  cataracts  of  fire ; 

FREEDOM  shall  ride  triumphant  orer  the  main. 
And  Europe's  pirates  in  dismay  retire. 

The  dove  of  peace  shall  soon  regain  her  nest, 
And  JOVE'S  blest  bird  the  olive  branch  display  5 

Then  be  the  change  in  softer  notes  express'd 
And  LOVE  again  be  warbled  in  your  lay  : 

Soft  as  the  zephyrs,  when  they  fan  the  lake, 

And  dimpling  smiles  betray  the  ravish'd  kiss^ 
*    In  sweeter  tones  your  numbers  then  may  wake, 

And  every  note  breathe  friendship,  love  and  peace. 

So  I  have  seen  the  bolt  of  heaven  hurl'd, 

While,  clothed  in  tempests,  angry  Nature  frown "d  ; 

Anon  her  smiles  were  scatter  d  o'er  the  world, 
And  sweeter  wreaths  her  glowing  temples  bound. 

Bright  gems  of  silver  glittered  from  the  spray, 
And  deeper  tints  in  every  blossom  glow'd  ; 
The  woodland  songsters  caught  a  livelier  lay, 
And  melody  in  richer  streamlets  flow'd. 
6 


WOODWORTH'S.  Amatory. 


Selim  to  Zorayda. 


TO  ZORAYDA. 

Ah  !  why,  sweet  minstrel !  why  bid  SELIM  soar 
Beyond  the  limits  of  his  humble  sphere  ? 

Why  bid  him  ape  the  thunder's  awful  roar, 

And  swell  the  train  in  maddening  WAR'S  career  ? 


jt  \ji 
Th 


Forbear,  dear  girl  !  to  urge  the  strange  request, 

3 He  cannot  rouse  his  milky  heart  to  rage  ; 
en  let  him  lull  the  timorous  bird  to  rest, 
Or  feel  it  dance  with  pleasure  in  its  cage. 


His  gentle  muse  on  Heliconia  strays, 

Or  gaily  sports  in  sweet  Pierian  bowers  ; 

And,  when  descending  to  inspire  his  lays, 
Her  airy  form  is  but  the  breath  of  flowers. 

JMlXERvA7s  helm  her  brow  could  ne'er  sustain, 

The  sword  of  MARS  her  arm  could  never  wield— 
He  cannot  woo  her  to  a  task  so  vain — 
She  flies  with  terror  the  embattled  field. 

He  once  essay 'd — but,  like  the  Mantuan  swain, 
APOLLO  check'd  his  vain  presumptuous  pride, 

Forbade  him  to  attempt  the  daring  strain, 

Nor  paint  the  scene  where  Jprave  MONTGOMERY  died. 


Amatory.  WOODWORTH'S.  63 

Selim  to  Zorayda. 

He  blush'd,  obey'd,  nor  more  mistakes  his  powers  $ 
One  wish  alone  his  ardent  soul  employs — 

In  Beauty's  smile  to  bask  life's  summer  hours, 
To  feast  on  love,  and  banquet  on  its  joys. 

Life  is  a  chase — the  game,  terrestrial  bliss ; 

If  shadows  please,  why  not  a  shade  pursue  ? 
He  tastes  it  in  affection's  nectar'd  kiss, 

His  song  affords  it — if  approv'd  by  you. 

There  is  a  magic  harp,  whose  dulcet  tones 
t    J^OLUS  only  has  the  skill  to  wake  ; 
Which  breathes  to  Night  its  sweetly-sighing  moans^ 
If  no^rude  blast  the  soft  enchantment  break. 

He  came  with  fragrance  on  his  lucid  wings, 
Paused  as  he  pass'd,  enraptured  at  the  sight  5 

Then  fondly  stoop'd  and  kiss'd  the  silken  strings, 
Which  woke  in  ecstasy  and  breathed  delight. 

The  playful  god  in  transport  bore  away 
The  ravish  *d  sweets  his  lawless  kisses  stole  ; 

And  distance  heard  the  breezy  notes  decay, 
In  sighs,  whose  softness  harmonized  the  soul. 

Cut  BOREAS  came  with  rude  disastrous  breath, 
And  swept  the  tender  strings  with  direful  force  5 

Harsh  DISCORD  waked,  and,  like  the  bird  of  death, 
Shriek'd  to  the  gale  in  accents  loud  and  hoar??. 


64  ANONYMOUS".  Amatorj 

Zorayda  to  Selim. 

Such  is  the  lyre  which  SELIM,  when  a  child, 
Received  with  rapture  from  the  pensive  muse  5 

Its  whispers  please  him,  though  untaught  and  wild. 
But  loftier  tones  the  trembling  chords  refuse. 

O  then  permit  him  still  the  gentler  strain, 
In  all  its  tender  languishments,  to  wake  5 

For,  if  he  rudely  sweep  the  strings  again, 
He  fears,  Zorayda,  that  his  lyre  will  break. 


TO  SELIM. 

Has  Selim  the  soul  which  his  numbers  portray. 

And  is  it  express'd  in  the  glance  of  his  eye  ? 
Then  would  I  for  ever  exist  in  the  ray, 

While  mine  to  his  harp  should  respond  with  a  sigh. 

If  his  heart  truly  throb  to  the  notes  of  his  lyre, 
And  is  in  his  accents  as  sweetly  express'd 

His  voice  must  be  music — must  rapture  inspire  5 
To  quaff  the  rich  melody  is  to  be  blest. 

If  his  feelings  are  justly  portray  ?d  by  his  muse. 

And  are  in  his  visage  correctly  display'd, 
What  fair  but  with  rapture  that  visage  reviews, 

Reflection's  fair  model,  by  beauty  array 'd  ? 


Amatory.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  65 

The  Harbour  of  Happiness. 

In  short,  if  his  mind  is  express'd  in  his  lays. 
So  melting  in  sorrow,  in  rapture  so  warm, 

And  his  form  correspond — it  were  rashness  to  gaze, 
The  heart,  unresisting,  must  yield  to  the  charm. 

But,  all !  if  hypocrisy  warble  the  strain, 

And  the  soul  have  no  part  in  its  magical  sweets, 

O  tell  me — and  then  ape  Apollo  in  vain, 
But  never  emerge  from  thy  secret  retreats. 


THE  HARBOUR  OF  HAPPINESS. 

Embark 'd  on  the  ocean  of  life, 
I  steer'd  for  the  haven  of  bliss  ; 

But  thro'  passion's  tempestuous  strife, 
My  reckoning  was  ever  A-MISS. 

For  Pleasure's  enchanted  domain 
Allured  me  from  Innocence's  track  5 

But  her  commerce,  attended  with  pain, 
Soon  hove  all  my  topsails  aback. 

On  the  waves  of  adversity  tost, 

And  plung'd  in  the  whirlpool  of  care, 

The  rudder  of  fortitude  lost, 
I  struck  on  the  rocks  of  despair. 

6* 


WOODWORTll'Si 


The  Harbour  of  Happiness. 


But  afloat  and  refitted  once  more, 

With  the  chart  of  experience  to  guide. 

Hope  points  to  the  much-desired  shore, 
While  her  breath  bids  the  tempest  subside. 

No  breakers  or  quicksands  I  fear, 

While  honour  stands  firm  at  the  helm.; 

By  the  compass  of  reason  I'll  steer 
To  joy's  paradisical  realm. 

Stern  Virtue  the  port  may  blockade, 
Yet  Hymen  will  sanction  my  right, 

And  his  torch,  Cupid's  pharos  shall  aid 
To  moor  in  the  stream  of  delight. 

Then,  then  may  the  genius  of  love, 

An  eternal  embargo  declare, 
I'll  never  evade  it,  by  Jove  ! 

Nor  barter  in  contraband  ware* 


WOODtVORTH'S: 


A  Dream. 


A  DREAM. 

O  stay,  sweet  vision  !  lovely  phantom,  stay  f 
And  longer  bless  me  with  the  mimic  show .; 

Ah  1  fade  not  thus  to  empty  air  away, 
And  leave  a  wretch  awake  to  real  wo. 

And  did  I  dream  ?  Oh  !   'twas  a  dream  so  sweet. 
So  full  of  bliss,  that  heaven  had  lost  its  charms  j 

And  I  embraced  the  dear  delusive  cheat, 

Then  woke,  and  found  despair  within  my  arms. 

Joy's  sparkling  goblet  seems  to  overflow, 

Her  banquet  now  with  tempting  sweets  appears 

But,  ah  !  I  wake  to  quaff  the  cup  of  wo, 

Drink  deep  of  grief,  and  feast  upon  my  tears. 

Where  now  has  fled  the  bliss  I  fancied  mine  ? 

Where  are  the  forms  which  tempted  to  deceiver 
Vanish  ?d  in  air !  but,  ah !  have  left  behind 

A  wounded  wretch,  whom  nothing  can  relieve* 

Is  life  a  dream!  then,  messenger  of  peace, 
Prepare  thy  bow,  thy  barbed  dart  Til  kiss ; 

Dissolve  the  charm,  O  bid  the  vision  cease, 
And  let  me  wake  to  everlasting  bliss. 


58  WOODWORTH'3.  Amatory. 

The  Poplar. 

-    - 

THE  POPLAR. 

0  green  was  the  Poplar  when,  under  its  shade, 

1  exchanged  the  soft  vow  with  the  New-Haven  maid  ! 
J3ut  Winter  soon  blighted  its  sweet  summer  hue. 

So  hope  faded  when  I  bade  Mary  adieu ! 

«  Three  years  shall  I  wander  before  I  return, 
But  still  this  fond  bosom  for  Mary  shall  burn, 
My  heart,  like  the  compass,  is  constant  and  true" — 
She  wept  as  I  murmur'd,  dear  Mary,  adieu ! 

Cut  doom'd  was  my  Mary  another  to  bless, 

And  doom'd  is  her  lover  to  pine  in  distress ; 

Like  the  leaves  of  the  Poplar,  which  tempests  then  strew, 

My  hopes  were  all  scattered ;  so,  Mary,  adieu ! 

The  spring  soon  re  turn 'd,  and  the  Poplar  was  drest ; 
But  peace  had  for  ever  forsaken  my  breast  5 
From  the  music  of  Nature  no  comfort  I  drew, 
For  the  birds  and  the  streams  murmur'd,  Mary,  adieu  \ 

When,  torn  by  my  sorrows,  I  bow  to  my  doom, 
Will  a  tear  from  my  Mary  e'er  fall  on  my  tomb! 
When  the  leaves  on  the  Poplar  are  blasted  and  few. 
They'll  sigh  in  the  breeze,  lovely  Mary,  adieu ! 


Amatory.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Time,  the  Physician  of  Disappointed  Love. 

TIME, 

The  Physician  of  Disappointed  Love. 

Venus  in  her  car  descended, 
Drawn  by  little  harmless  dove?, 

Sportive  graces  round  attended, 
With  a  smiling  band  of  loves. 

Roses  in  a  chaplet  crown'd  her, 
And  she  chose  her  flowery  seat 

Where  the  songsters  warbled  round  her  — 
Hudson's  billows  kiss'd  her  feet. 

There  I  saw  the  queen  of  beauty, 
Fondling  Cupid  in  her  arms, 

And  approach'd  to  pay  my  duty, 
Ravish'd  with  her  glowing  charms. 

•'  Goddess,  famed  in  ancient  legends"  — 
I  exclainrd  —  in  posture  low  — 

-'  Queen  of  love's  celestial  regions, 
"  Welcome  to  the  realms  below  ! 

•'•'  I  am  told,  the  glance  which  captures, 
"  Springs  alone  from  power  of  thine  ; 

"  Give  me,  then,  love's  burning  raptures, 
"  Teach  me  love  —  and  bliss  is  mine," 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Amaton  . 


Time,  the  Physician  of  disappointed  Love. 

Venus  smil'd  at  my  petition, 
Gave  the  urchin's  dart  a  kiss, 

Who  exclaim'd,  "  mama's  permission 
"  Gives  you  now  the  promised  bliss. 

"  Here's  the  means,  and  skilPd  to  use  ' 
"  I  but  seldom  miss  the  heart"  — 

Then  within  my  throbbing  bosom 
Quick  I  felt  the  trembling  dart. 

How  my  glowing  pulses  bounded  I 
Like  our  sire,  ere  known  to  sin. 

'Twas  elysium  that  surrounded, 
Joy  and  paradise  within. 

Hope,  within  her  fragrant  bowers, 
Led  me  with  a  smile  more  sweet 

Than  the  odoriferous  flowers 
Gaily  blooming  round  our  feet. 

"  Yes,"  I  cried,  "  I  thank  thee,  Venus, 
"  Hope  and  bliss  will  ne'er  depart"  — 

When  a  demon  sprang  between  us, 
WTith  a  frown  that  froze  the  heart. 

Hope  beheld,  and  fled  affrighted, 
While  the  fiend's  disastrous  breath 

Blasted  all  that  had  delighted, 
Flowers  and  choristers,  in  death, 


Aiuatoiy.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Time,  the  Physician  of  disappointed  Love. 


'Twas  the  fiend  of  Disappointment  — 
How  his  touch  my  bosom  chilPd, 

Poison'd  Hope's  balsamic  ointment, 
And  my  wound  with  anguish  filPd. 

"  Queen  of  beauty,  treacherous  Venus  , 
"  Save  me  from  a  fate  like  this  ; 

•'•"  Jove  himself  may  judge  between  us, 
"  Pain  is  all  thy  promised  bliss." 

*•'  Mortal  !  ever  discontented, 
"  Your  unjust  reproaches  spare  ; 

u  Is  your  wish  so  soon  repented  ? 
"  Well,  again  I  grant  your  prayer. 

'•  Yon  decrepit  sage  will  heal  you, 
"  Whose  approach  appears  so  slow  $ 

"  Let  his  icy  fingers  feel  you, 

"  And  you  must  forget  your  wo." 

Time  approached  his  aid  to  proffer^ 
But  I  shrunk  from  his  relief; 

Hugg'd  my  pain  —  refused  his  offers 
For  I  found  a  joy  in  grief. 

Lives  there  one,  who  loves  sincerely^ 
Willing  to  forget  the  flame  ? 

^o  —  'tis  dissolution,  nearly, 
Nature  will  assert  her  claim. 


72  WOODWORTH'S.  Elegiac. 

My  Mother's  Grave — in  Scituate,  state  of  Massachusetts. 


MY  MOTHER'S  GRAVE. 

Written  in  a  country  Burial  Place,  in  ScituQtf, 
Massachusetts. 

Aurora  paints  the  orient  skies  with  light, 

With  rosy  pencil  tinges  every  cloud, 
Unfolds  her  gates  upon  the  rear  of  NIGHT, 

And  strips  the  mountains  of  his  sable  shroud. 

The  conscious  stars  conceal  their  twinkling  fires, 
Night's  waning  empress  turns  more  sickly  pale^ 

Her  votary  the  whizzing  bat  retires, 

The  owl  suspends  her  harsh  complaining  tale. 

The  lark  awakes  and  tunes  his  matin  song, 
And  all  the  sylvan  warblers  join  the  theme, 

The  whistling  ploughman  drives  his  team  along, 
And  sporting  swans  sail  stately  down  the  stream. 

Adieu,  dull  couch  !  for  nature  more  can  please, 
While  o'er  her  rich  enamel'cl  breast  I  stray, 

Inhaling  sweets  which  freight  the  balmy  breeze. 
Stolen  in  kisses  from  the  lips  of  May. 

The  peach-bloom  in  the  breathing  zephyr  plays, 
And  shakes  soft  odours  from  its  silken  leaves  j 

•The  apple,  too.  a  silver  garb  displays, 

Whence  morning's  breath  a  rich  perfume  receives* 


Elegiac.  WOODWORTH'S. 


My  M 


Here  let  me  stray,  adown  this  mossy  ridjre  ; 

Observe  yon  streamlet  o'er  the  pebbles  creep  ; 
Pass  o'er  its  little  rude-constructed  bridge, 

t3     7 

To  where,  in  silence,  all  our  fathers  sleep. 

O  may  I  never  pass  this  sacred  spot, 
Unmindful  of  the  dust  these  walls  enclose  : 

For  here,  partaking  in  the  common  lot, 
A  tender  MOTHER'S  relics  find  repose  I 

Here  various  stones,  on  various  models  planned, 
Discriminate  between  the  rich  and  p'  or; 

Some  richly  sculptured,  by  an  artist's  hand, 
Some  rudely  lettered,  and  adorn'cl  no  more. 

But  filial  love  and  sorrow  soon  discern 
The  humble  slate  they  consecrated  here  ; 

The  drooping  willow  weeping  o'er  the  urn, 
The  quoted  motto,  and  the  name  most  dear. 

Yes,  'tis  the  same  —  beneath  this  turfy  heap 
Lowly  reclines  the  form  which  t^ave  me  birth  $ 

Those  arms,  the  cradle  of  my  earliest  sleep, 

Are  nerveless  now,  and  mingling  with  the  earth. 

Those  lips,  whose  accents  could  my  cares  remove, 
Are  seal'd  in  silence,  stiffened,  cold,  and  dead  ! 

Those  eyes,  which  beam'd  with  fond  maternal  love; 
Are  closed  in  darkness,  and  their  lustre  fled  .' 
7 


WOODWORTH'S.  Elegiac. 


Mv  Mother's  Grave 


€)h  !  dear  departed,  venerable  shade  ! 

If  earthly  objects  can  thy  notice  claim, 
Accept  the  tribute  filial  love  has  paid, 

The  pearly  gem  that  glitters  on  thy  name. 

Though  five  sad  years  their  destin'd  course  have  run. 
Since  death  confin'd  thy  mortal  body  here, 

Yet  cannot  thy  poor,  sorrowing,  orphan  son, 
Review  the  spot  unmoisten'd  with  a  tear. 

Hard  fate  forbade,  when  nature's  tenderest  ties 
Were  sever d  by  the  lingering  stroke  of  death, 

That  filial  love  should  close  thy  sunken  eyes, 
Or  from  thy  lips  to  kiss  the  parting  breath. 

Forgive  thy  son,  indulgent  parent,  this, 
As  he  forgives  the  fate  he  could  not  move  ; 

Though  oft  in  duty  he  has  been  remiss, 

This  last  neglect  was  not  from  want  of  love. 

For,  weeks  before,  when  wasting  nature  knew 
The  struggle  fruitless  for  her  forfeit  breath, 

Thy  wish  I  heard,  and  with  impatience  flew 
To  kiss  thy  cheek  before  it  sunk  in  death. 

When  faithful  memory  recalls  with  pain 
This  last  sad  duty  which  I  paid  to  thee, 

A  final  parting,  ne'er  to  meet  again, 

Till  from  the  world  and  its  corruptions  free— 


Efeiac.  WOODWORTH'S. 


My  Mother's  Grave. 


I  feel  the  son  in  all  my  moving  soul  ; 

How  truly  so,  these  starting  tears  reveal: 
The  sacred  drops  shall  meet  with  no  control.' 

Affection's  tear  what  son  would  e'er  conceal? 

Then  was  the  mother  all  alive  in  thee  ; 

What  wholesome  counsel  from  thy  lips  I  drew>—  - 
Which  in  my  breast  shall  ever  treasured  be  — 

The  only  legacy  I  had  from  you. 

Since  then,  dear  parent,  Joy  has  seldom  smiled 
Upon  thy  son  —  severe  has  been  his  fate  — 

The  world  was  new  —  an  inexperienc'd  child 
Its  friendship  sought  —  but  only  gain'd  its  hate  I 

He  hoped  from  FORTUNE  but  a  cheering  smile, 
But  like  the  world  she  frowrrd  upon  his  claim  j 

He  then  pursued  a  fleeting  shade  a  while  — 
But  broke  a  bubble  when  he  grasp'd  at  FAME  1 

His  only  respite,  now,  from  mental  pain, 
Is  o'er  his  native  rural  scenes  to  roam  ; 

A  view  of  this  sequestered  spot  to  gain, 

Or,  when  away,  to  think  of  thee  and  home  ! 

The  green  turf  swells  above  thy  mouldering  clay, 
The  moss  has  strew'd  it  with  the  softest  felt  ; 

The  violets  here  their  loveliest  hues  display, 
To  deck  the  bed  on  which  he  oft  has  knelt. 


76  WOODWORTH'S.  Elegiac. 

My  Mother's  Grave. 

This  humble  stone,  which  fond  affection  placed 
To  mark  the  spot,  and  to  preserve  thy  name. 

Though  by  a  rude  unlettered  artist  traced, 
On  his  regard  has  more  than  marble's  claim. 

Sacred  to  thee  for  ever  may  it  stand ; 

Forbear,  O  TIME  !  the  tablet  to  destroy, 
Whose  Jay  disarms  the  king  of  terror's  hand — 

"  Death  ix  i/ie  gate  to  everlasting  joy." 

This  truth  b^liev'd,  no  more  shall  baseless  fear 
Attend  the  vord  that  speaks  of  leaving  earth; 

We  seek  for  happiness — it  dwells  not  here; 
In  Heaven  alone  are  joys  of  lasting  worth. 

Here  some  repose  who  scarce  received  their  birth, 
Ere  death  consign 'd  them  to  the  silent  tomb ; 

Small,  though  sufficient.,  is  their  lot  of  earth — 
The  flowers,  transplanted,  will  for  ever  bloom. 

No  age  is  free  from  DEATH'S  insatiate  bow, 
His  shafts  are  levelled,  and  his  victims  fall! 

The  rose  of  infancy,  or  four-score  snow, 
Alike  avail  not,  he  must  conquer  all. 

Those  rustic  biers  against  the  wall  reclin'd, 
The  waiting  bearers  of  the  archer's  prey. 

Impress  this  serious  truth  upon  the  mind, 
Mxistema  is  not  certain  for  a  day  ! 


Elegiac  WOODWORTH'S.  77 

My  Mother's  Grave. 

How  oft  this  pious,  all-important  theme, 
Hast  thou  impressed  upon  thy  list?ning  boy, 

My  much-loved  Mother  ! — but  the  playful  dream 
Of  childhood,  pictured  only  scenes  of  joy. 

Then  would  we  come,  my  little  sisters  too, 

And  one  fond  brother,  through  this  yard  to  stray  ; 

Our  destined  beds  beneath  the  sod  to  view, 
Survey  these  stones,  and  read  the  uncouth  lay. 

Then,  as  the  shades  of  evening  veil'd  the  plains, 
Back  to  yon  mansion*  we  would  gaily  stroll, 

The  humble  benefice  which  still  sustains 
The  careful  guardian  of  the  Christian  soul. 

Beneath  that  roof,  I  first  inhaled  the  air, 

Poor  were  my  parents,  hard  they  earn'd  their  bread, 

Rich  only  in  a  reputation  fair, 

And  owifd  no  mansion  where  to  lay  the  head. 

Along  yon  streamlet,?  where  the  whisp'ring  reeds 
And  fragrant  flags  upon  its  borders  play, 

Where  through  those  cedars  it  meand'ring  leads, 
My  infant  footsteps  first  were  taught  to  stray. 

*  The  Parsonage  House,  of  the  North  Parish  of  Scituate,  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  harbour. 

t  A  well-known  brook,  leading  from  Beaverdam  Swamp  to  the 
harbour. 

7* 


WOODWORTH'S.  Elegiac, 


My  Mother's  Grave. 


And  how  a  Mother's  tender,  anxious  care, 

Has  oft  depriv'd  me  of  this  little  joy  ! 
The  last  love-pledge  of  this  connubial  pair, 

Their  fears  were  ever  wakeful  for  the  boy. 

The  sylvan  Muse  entic'd  me  to  her  cell, 
My  childish  fingers  wanton'd  o'er  her  lyre, 

Bade  the  rude  strain,  untaught,  to  wildly  swell, 

While  to  the  sound  each  throbbing  pulse  beat  higher. 

Then,  as  I  grew,  and  learn'd  to  sweep  the  strings^ 
By  art  directed,  though  less  sweetly  wild, 

I  envied  not  the  happiness  of  kings, 

My  lyre  was  bliss,  and  I  a  happy  child. 

But  why  recount  the  joys  of  childhood  o'er  ? 

Tl  at  happy  state  with  all  its  joys  has  fled ! 
AS  fade  the  beauties  of  the  tender  flower, 

When  WINTER  beats  upon  its  drooping  head* 

Out  see  !  the  ocean  sparkles  on  the  sight, 
What  lovely  hues  upon  its  surface  play  ; 

The  liquid  mirror  streams  with  dazzling  light. 
Reflected  from  the  rising  god  of  day. 

He  comes  !  and  nature  hails  his  gladd'ning  beams, 
New  life  pervades  her  animated  part  ; 

Nor  less  improved  the  vegetable  seems, 

Its  charms  increase,  and  laugh  at  mimic  art 


Elegiac.  WOODWORTH'S.  79 

My  Mothers  Grave. 

Not  long  ago,  adown  the  western  skies 

lie  sunk,  and  left  the  mourning  world  in  gloom  5 

But  only  sunk  at  night,  again  to  rise, 

In  tenfold  splendour,  from  his  watery  tomb. 

So,  though  we  sink  beneath  the  verdant  sod, 

And  leave  our  friends  in  mournful  weeds  and  tears, 

We  only  sink  to  rise  and  dwell   with  GOD, 
An  age  unmeasured  by  successive  years. 

There,  we  shall  meet,  dear  Mother  !  yet  again^ 
Thou  art  but  gone  before  a  little  while  ; 

There,  joy  is  endless,  unalloy'd  with  pain, 
There,  an  eternal  round  of  summers  smile. 

Fly  swift,  ye  winged  hours,  and  be  my  lot 

To  count  but  few,  ere  death  shall  aim  the  dart  ;- 

Then  lowly  let  me  rest  beneath  this  spot, 
And  lose  the  anguish  of  an  aching  heart. 

Short  be  my  life,  yet  then,  if  sorrows  count, 

A  lengthen'd  age  should  clothe  my  head  in  snow ; 

O  could  my  virtues  gain  but  their  amount, 

Perfection  would  have  once  been  found  below.' 

Adieu,  dear  spot !  necessity  commands 

The  youth  who  loves  you  far  from  hence  away  f 

But  while  a  thought  of  home  his  breast  expands, 
Your  dear  remembrance  never  can  decay ! 


80  WOODWORTM'S.  Elegiac. 

A  Monody  on  the  Death  of  a  Friend. 


A  MONODY 
On  the  Death  of  a  highly-esteemed  Friend. 

My  lyre,  which  erst  to  Friendship  tuned,  I  woke 

In  strains  the  sacred  theme  inspired, 
While  with  its  flame  the  glowing  chords  were  fired. 
Ah  !  sad  exchange  !  the  tie  of  friendship  broke, 
By  death  dissolved,  must  make  its  sadder  theme  ! 
While  every  falling  note  with  wo  shall  teem  ! 
To  KIDDER'S  early  fate  the  muse  shall  pay 

Sincere  affection's  purest  lay  ; 
The  emanations  of  a  grief  fraught  soul, 
The  real  feelings  of  an  honest  heart, 
UnfeignM,  and  unadorn'd  by  art, 
Who  all  her  paler  hues  from  nature  stole. 

Ye  youths,  ye  virgin  train, 
Whose  eyes  to  his  responsive  snriPd, 
When  festive  rites  the  hours  beguiPd, 

With  me  complain  ! 

Me,  whom  the  closer  link  of  friendship  join'd 
To  his  expanded  heart — where  truth,  combined 
With  every  glowing  grace,  superior  shone  5 
With  me  commingle  sympathetic  tears, 


Elegiac.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  81 

A  Monody  on  the  Death  of  a  Friend. 

While  faithful  Memory  shall  own 

His  worth,  his  virtues,  past  ! 
She  bids  retrace  the  journey  of  his  years. 
Review  the  path,  nor  see  a  blemish  cast. 

Flush'd  by  the  balmy  spring  of  youth,  he  rose. 
In  life's  parterre,  a  flower  of  fairest  hue  ; 
Denied  affection's  fostering,  pearly  dew, 
Parental  sunshine — yet  his  tints  disclose 

Beauty  internal — fragrance  all  his  own  j 
Benevolence  conspicuous  shone, 
And  nectar'd  charity  distill'd 
In  grateful  odours  ! — who  beheld  him  bloom 

And  yet  their  love  withheld  ? 
Who,  could  they  have  foreseen  his  early  doom, 

But  would  have  shed  anticipated  tears  ; 
Withheld  the  victim  from  the  insatiate  tomb, 
If  prayers  could  hold,  for  many,  many  years  ? 

But  prayers,  nor  youth,  nor  virtue,  nought  avail 
Against  diseases,  ministers  of  death  ! 
The  tyrant  claims  our  forfeit  breath, 
And  who  his  claim  withstands  ?  entreaties  fail  I 
One  gift  alone  can  make  us  scorn  the  foe, 

Though  not  his  shaft  evade  ; 
The  heavenly  gift  our  Saviour  brought  below, 
Religion^  sweet,  celestial  maid  .' 


82  WOODWORTH'S;  Elegiac. 

A   Monody  on  the  D<JKI!I  of  a   F'iend. 

By  thee  sustain'd,  the  darkened  path  grows  bright, 
And  leads  to  realms  of  everlasting  light  ! 
Cease  then,  my  tears,  to  flow, 
Cease,  sighs,  to  murmur  wo, 
This  peerless  guide  my  friend  secured, 
While  he  the  ills  of  life  endured  ; 
Cheer'd  by  a  seraph's  song, 
The  youih  she  led  along 
The  gloomy  path — its  roughness  fled, 
And  Terror  hid  his  grisly  head  ; 
The  gate  of  Paradise  displayed 
Cherubs  in  robes  of  light  array'd  : 
And  songs  re-echo'd  through  the  empyreal  dome, 
As  heavenly  minstrels  hail'd  him  welcome  home  ! 

But  selfish  sorrow  will  intrude — 
The  loss  is  ours — and  nature  will  be  heard 
Till  sorrow  is  subclu'd 

By  cooler  reason's  unimpassion'd  sway  ; 
The  worth  we  lov'd,  the  virtues  we  revered, 

We  must  lament  when  torn  away. 
So  young,  to  fall  !  but  youth,  as  hoary  age, 

Finds  no  respect  I  The  infant  dies 
When  scarcely  entered  on  the  stage  ; 
His  part  to  ope,  and  then  to  close  his  eyes, 
Some  claim  a  longer  scene,  and  bustle  round 
Their  little  walk,  with  rant  and  sound  5 


EJegiae.  WOODWORTH'S.  83 

A  Monody  on  tho  D«  ath  of!  u   Friend. 

The  curtain  drops,  and  they  are  seen  no  more  ! 

Few  labour  onward  thro'  the  tedious  play 
Till  life's  allotted,  farthest  verge,  is  o'er, 

Then  fall  like  fruit  when  autumn  melts  away. 
Thus  is  it  ordered,  Order's  source  to  please  ; 
Who  will  impeach  His  infinite  decrees  J 

Granted,  'tis  just — yet  sympathy  must  weep — 
To  see  him  hastening  to  the  silent  dead 
Without  a  kindred  tear  of  sorrow  shed  ! 
JNor  bosom  where  to  fall  asleep  I 

Nor  hand  to  close  his  eyes  ! 
Strangers  that  mournful  task  perform'd  I 
Yet  strangers  here  were  friends — their  tears,  their  sighs, 
From  bosoms  flow'd  by  purest  feelings  wrarm'd. 
Friends  tied  by  nature  could  no  more  ; 
Nor  more  sincerely  such  a  loss  deplore. 
Might  fond  fraternal  offices  assuage 
The  pangs  of  sore  disease  ? — these  too  denied  ! 

For  ah  !  a  brother  still  of  lesser  ag;e, 
At  distance  languished,  while  his  brother  died  ! 

No  tender  sister  weeping  o'er  his  bed  ! 
No  anxious  father  soothing  with  his  love  I 
No  mother  !  God  !  I  touch  a  tender  string 
My  heart's  acutest  nerve — its  vital  thread, 
Struck  too  unkindly,  tears  of  crimson  move, 
And  waken'd  sorrow  whets  her  blunted  sting  ! 


r 
I 


84  WOODWORTH'S.  Elegiac. 

A  Monody  on  the  Death  of  a  Friend. 

O  grant,  ye  powers  that  rule  the  lives  of  all, 
If  I  am  doom'd,  like  him  I  mourn,  to  fall — 
Far  from  the  bosom  of  my  home, 
Where  fate  may  call,  and  I  may  roam — 
O  grant  my  wish — may  hearts  like  those  which  bleS 
O'er  Kidder's  corse,  mourn  too  for  me  5 
Such  be  the  strangers  round  my  bed  $ 
Such  be  the  tears  they  shed  5 

Whoe'er  they  be  : 
Such  be  the  sacred  care  my  ashes  find 

When  death  has  clos'd  the  scene  : 
Such  be  the  impression  on  the  youthful  mind, 
When  followers  round  my  grave  convene  : 
But  more  than  all — like  his,  my  spirit  rise, 
And  with  him  reign  in  worlds  beyond  the  skies. 


Ele-iac.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  85 


Oa  the  Death  of  a  beloved  infant. 

.  . 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  INFANT. 

Almighty  God  !  'tis  right,  'tis  just, 
That  earthly  frames  should  turn  to  dust ; 
But,  ah  !  forgive  the  wishful  tear 
That  would  detain  a  spirit  here. 

Go,  gentle  babe,  to  realms  of  bliss, 
The  chast'ning  rod  we  humbly  kiss; 
Thy  Saviour  calls  thee  home,  my  son, 
And  let  his  holy  will  be  done. 

Thy  earthly  form,  now  icy  cold, 
Was  framed  in  beauty's  fairest  mould ; 
But  now,  prepared  by  love  divine, 
A  fairer,  brighter  form  is  thine. 

Thy  earthly  parents  loved  thee  well-^- 
So  much,  that  language  fails  to  tell  ; 
But,  ah !  our  love  was  weak  and  poor, 
Thy  heavenly  Parent  loves  thee  more. 

Here,  thou  wert  tenderly  caress'dj 
Upon  a  fond  maternal  breast ; 
But  angel-nurses,  forms  of  love, 
Shall  now  caress  my  babe  above. 

3 


VVOODWORTH'S.  'Elegla* 


On  the  Dtath  of  a  beloved  Infant. 


Fain  would  paternal  love  have  taught 
Thy  little  opening  world  of  thought ; 
But  we  the  pleasing  task  resign 
To  heavenly  schools,  and  books  divine. 

?Twas  all  our  thoughts  and  wishes  still 
To  guard  our  darling  here  from  ill ; 
But  that  great  God  who  calFd  thee  home, 
Has  saved  from  greater  ills  to  come. 

Then  let  us  hush  the  rising  sigh, 
And  bid  affliction's  tear  be  dry; 
Our  child  still  lives  I  his  sorrows  o'er, 
Where  we  shall  meet  to  part  no  more. 

There,  shall  the  sweet  maternal  kiss, 
Increase  his  joy — enhance  his  bliss ; 
There,  through  redeeming  love  and  grace, 
The  father  shall  his  son  embrace. 

Almighty  God  !  'tis  right,  'tis  just, 
That  earthly  frames  should  turn  to  dust ; 
But,  O  the  sweet,  transporting  truth — 
The  soul  shall  bloom  in  endless  youth, 


Elegiac.  WOODWORTH'S.  87 


On  the  Death  of  a  Child. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD. 

In  life's  parterre,  what  numerous  germs  disclose, 

The  loveliest  tints,  the  sweetest  blushing  dies ! 
The  enraptured  florist  views  the  opening  rose, 
Screens  it  from  every  ruder  wind  that  blows, 

And  richer,  future  charms,  in  embryo  espies. 
But,  ah  .'  the  spoiler  stalks  abroad,  whose  breatk 
Is  pestilence,  whose  chilling  touch  is  death  ! 

With  merciless  hand  he  crops  the  flower. 
And  all  its  promis'd  beauty  flies, 

It  falls  beneath  his  baneful  power, 

Its  sweets  are  scattered  in  an  hour; 

It  shrinks,  it  withers,  droops,  and  dies. 
Yet,  mourn  not,  ye,  whose  fost'ring  love  and  care 

To  culture  a  beloved  plant  has  faiPd ; 
'Tis  but  transplanted  to  a  garden,  where 
Eternal  summer  smiles ;  'twill  flourish  there 

In  living  hues,  by  spoilers  unassail'd. 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Eiegiaq. 


Lines  on  the  Death  of  a  favourite  Kitten. 

LINES, 

Written  at  the  request  of  a  young  lady,  on  the 
Death  of  her  favourite  Kitten. 

[A   JUVENILE    PRODUCTION.] 

Shall  sculptured  blocks  and  columns  rise 
In  memory  of  the  worthless  great, 

And  nought  but  tears,  regrets,  and  sighs. 
Declare  the  humbler  victim's  fate  ? 

Forbid  it,  Justice  !  while  my  muse 

Will  not  deny  her  friendly  aid ; 
To  Sylvia's  virtues,  though  abstruse, 

Shall  due  respect  and  praise  be  paid. 

How  pure  her  life  !  without  a  blot 

To  stain  her  bright  untarnished  fame  ! 

Though  low,  obscure,  and  mean,  her  lot, 
Yet  long  shall  live  her  humble  name. 

How  oft  her  sportive  tricks  and  plays 
Have  pleased,  amused,  and  banislrd  care  ' 

How  oft  her  little  winning  ways 

Have  gahrd  caresses  from  the  fair .'  • 


Elegiac. 


WOODWORTH'S. 


On  the  Death  of  a  favourite  Kitten — a  juvenile  production. 

How  rich  and  envied  the  reward 

For  all  her  little  arts  to  please ! 
Her  lovely  mistress'  kind  regard 

Tenfold  repaid  such  toils  as  these. 

Who  would  not  envy  her,  so  blest — 
Accept  her  fate  her  bliss  to  gain  ? 

Kiss'd  by  those  tips — press'd  to  that  breast. 
Which  thousands  sigh  to  touch  in  vain. 

.But,  ah  !  -her  sports  and  plays  are  done  f 
Those  harmless  pastimes  all  are  fled  ! 

The  tricks  which  those  caresses  won 
Amuse  no  more  I—poor  Sylvia's  dead  ! 


8* 


NOTE. 

The  patriotic  Odes,  Songs,  and  other  OCCASIONAL 
pieces,  which  follow,  icere  handed  (en  masse)  to  the 
publishers,  with  a  discretionary  privilege  of  select 
ing  or  suppressing.  Fully  aware  that  the  theme  of 
INDEPENDENCE  had  long  since  been  exhausted  by  more 
celebrated  bards,  the  publishers  anticipated  but  little 
ORIGINALITY  from  so  trite  a  subject.  On  inspection, 
however,  they  are  convinced  that  it  is  their  duty  to  in 
corporate  these  pieces  with  the  present  selection.  What 
is  wanting  in  originality  of  thought,  is  made  up  in 
energy  of  language  and  harmony  of  numbers.  Many 
of  them  are  JUVENILE  productions,  and  most  of  them 
were  written  without  study,  on  the  spur  of  the  occasion. 
Such  as  they  Jirst  appeared,  without  revision,  amend 
ment,  or  alteration,  they  are  now  presented  to  the  pub- 
fa,  by  THE  PUBLISHERS. 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S.  91 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

ODE, 

Sung  at  the  Celebration  of  Independence,  by  the 
Society  of  Juvenile  Patriots. 

[AN    EARLY   JUVENILE    PRODUCTION.] 

When  from  our  shores  Bellona's  car 
RecoiPd  amid  dread  scenes  of  war  ; 
The  guardian  Genius  of  our  land 
Gave  listening  freemen  this  command — 
"  Revere  fair  Freedom's  chosen  Son, 
Protect  with  life  the  prize  he  won." 

High  on  her  right  the  Hero  stood 
Victorious  from  the  fields  of  blood, 
And  pois'd  to  Heaven  his  reeking  blade, 
As  witness  to  the  vow  he  made  : — 
"  This  arm,  with  Heaven  for  its  shield, 
Shall  e'er  protect  the  dear-bought  field. " 

The  goddess  heard  the  solemn  vow, 
And  twinM  the  laurel  round  his  brow  ; 
While  swell'd  the  anthem  to  his  praise, 
And  spheres  responsive  caught  the  lays— - 
"  Revere  the  Hero,  Washington, 
For  he  your  Independence  won.7' 


92  WOODWORTH'S.  Patrieti, 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Then,  while  we  consecrate  the  day 
Which  gave  our  land  its  lawful  sway, 
Let  all  our  bosoms  glow  with  fires 
Becoming  sons  of  hero-sires  ; 
Swear  ne'er  to  forfeit  what  they  won 
While  earth  revolves  around  the  sun. 

And  while  our  goblets  flow  with  wine, 
While  rich  libations  gra.ce  her  shrine, 
In  clouds  of  incense  to  the  skies 
Let  this  inspiring  theme  arise — 
"  The  Youth  of  Freedon,  e'er  will  be 
Champions  of  sacred  Liberty." 

While  Mars'  red  banner  floats  unfurl'd 
O'er  the  blood-delug'd  eastern  world, 
Here,  peace  shall  bless  us  with  her  reign, 
While  Virtue,  Right,  and  Faith  remain  ; 
And  let  mad  Europe  blush  to  see 
That  Peace  can  dwell  with  Liberty. 

But  if  our  foes  should  e'er  conspire 
To  kindle  Freedom's  funeral  pyre, 
And  slaves  of  tyrants  join  the  band 
To  subjugate  their  native  land, 
Our  Youth  indignant  shall  arise 
And  save  the  dearly-purchas'd  prize. 


TPatriotic.  WOODWORTH'S.  93 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Our  fathers  fought,  and  scornM  to  yield, 
But  drove  Oppression  from  the  field, 
Then  gave  this  mandate,  with  the  prize, 
To  unborn  Patriots,  yet  to  rise — 
"  Protect  the  blessing  we  bestow, 
And  guard  your  rights  from  every  foe." 

Then,  Youthful  Patriots,  rise,  and  swear 
To  hold  the  glorious  name  you  bear  ; 
Your  dear-bought  Freedom  to  maintain, 
While  Ocean,  Earth,  or  Skies  remain  ; 
And,  like  your  fathers,  still  to  be 
Independent,  Great,  and  Free. 


The  Genius  of  Freedom,  escap'd  from  the  flood 
Which  had  delug'd  the  world,  and  usurp 'd  her  do 
minion, 

On  the  glaciers  of  Switzerland  tremblingly  stood, 
To  Heaven  she  look'd  and  extended  her  pinion  ; 
When  over  the  main 
Was  wafted  this  strain, 
Which  Echo,  in  raptures,  repeated  again — 
c<  The  Sons  of  Columbia  have  sworn  to  be  free, 
And  their  arms  shall  maintain  what  their  voices  decree/"'* 


94  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

She  heard  it,  and  Westward  directed  her  flight, 

Till  our  hills  met  her  view  in  fair  grandeur  ascending. 
When  her  temple's  effulgence  burst  full  on  her  sight, 
And  her  sons  were  the  rites  of  her  worship  attending. 
Her  altar  was  rear'd, 
And  while  Freemen  rever'd, 

The  anthem  was  struck,  and  this  chorus  she  heard — 
The  Sons  of  Columbia  have  sworn  to  be  free, 
And  their  arms  shall  maintain  what  their  voices  decree. 

Then,  here  let  her  temple  for  ever  be  found, 

Ye  priests  who  attend,  guard  the  shrine  from  pollution ; 
In  the  midst  be  the  statue  of  Washington  crown'd 
With  the  laurels  he  won  in  our  grand  revolution. 
Swell  the  anthem  again 
To  Liberty's  reign, 

And  this  be  the  chorus  to  finish  the  strain — 
The  Sons  of  Columbia  have  sworn  to  be  free, 
And  their  arms  shall  maintain  what  their  voices  decree. 

On  high  soars  our  Eagle,  begemm'd  with  the  stars, 

A  dread  to  our  foe,  but  a  dove  to  our  brother  5 
One  talon  still  clenching  the  thunder  of  Mars, 
But  the  olive  of  peace  is  held  forth  in  the  other. 
The  world  may  unite, 
With  treble  our  might ; 
We  proffer  them  peace,  but  can  meet  them  in  fight — 


Patriotic. 


WOODWORTH'S. 


Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 


For  the  Sons  of  Columbia  have  sworn  to  be  free, 
And  their  arms  shall  maintain  what  their  voices  decree. 

Ye  Heroes  who  once  so  impregnable  stood 

'Gainst  Britain's  whole  prowess,  and  scorn'd  to  bend 


96  WOODWORTHTS.  Patriotic. 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Arise,  injure!  freemen,  again  grasp  the  spear, 

And  hurl  on  aggressors  the  vengeance  they  merit, 
The  blessing  preserve  which  you  value  so  dear, 
The  blessing  our  Fathers  have  bid  us  inherit. 
Indignant  arise, 
Britain's  lion  despise, 

And  swear  by  the  Ruler  of  earth,  sea,  and  skies, 
That  the  Sons  of  Columbia  will  ever  be  free, 
And  their  arms  shall  maintain  what  their  voices  decree. 

ODE  3. 

When  the  fiend  of  fell  discord  had  delug'd  in  gore 

The  nations  of  Europe  who  bow'd  to  the  demon, 
And  Oppression's  black  sceptre  was  held  o'er  the  shore 
Once  charter 'd  by  Heaven,  the  birth-right  of  freemen  : 
In  a  chariot  of  flame 
Fair  Liberty  came, 

And  the  armour  of  Pallas  encircled  the  dame  : 
Attend  to  her  call — "  Sons  of  Freedom,  arise, 
Independence  in  thunder  proclaim  to  the  skies." 

Inspired  by  the  genius,  our  fathers  unfurl'd 

Her  star-spangled  banner,  and  own'd  her  dominion  j 

Bade  their  cannon  indignant  proclaim  to  the  world 
Their  oath  to  be  freemen  in  act  and  opinion. 


i-utnotk.  \VOOD  WORTH'S.  97 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

While  her  Eagle  on  high, 

Flashing  fire  from  his  eye, 

Saw  the  olive  disdain'd,  and  his  thunders  let  fly. 
Then  the  watchword  was" Freedom7' — Columbia  arise. 
Independence  in  thunder  proclaim  to  the  skies. 


The  foe  in  confusion  recoil'd  from  our  shore, 

Where  Tyranny's  Upas  in  vain  sought  to  flourish  ; 
But  the  soil  he  relinquished,  enrich'd  with  his  gore. 
Shall  for  ages  the  fair  Tree  of  Liberty  nourish. 
Mid  its  branches  above, 
In  a  union  of  love, 

The  Eagle  shall  nestle  and  sport  with  the  dove, 
While,  from  myriads  of  freemen,  this  chorus  shall  rise — 
"  Independence  is  our's,  we'll  proclaim  to  the  skies." 

But,  hark  !  what  hoarse  discord  our  senses  assail  I 
Our  bird  grasps  his  thunders,  extends  his  broad  pin 
ions, 

And,  perch'd  mid  the  stars,  he  hears  borne  on  the  gale 
Ambition's  proud  threat  to  invade  his  dominions  : 
But  our  heroes  advance, 
And  alert  seize  the  lance, 

To  repel  the  encroachments  of  England  or  France. 
"  Independence  ! — we'll  never  relinquish  the  prize?r; 
Let  your  cannon  in  thunder  proclaim  to  the  skies. 
9 


98  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Rise,  freemen,  arise  !  let  this  festival  day, 

Devoted  to  joy  and  refined  recreation, 
See  millions  stand  ready,  alert  to  obey, 
Should  Liberty  call  to  repel  an  invasion. 
Your  weapons  retain, 
While  the  goblet  you  drain, 
Your  toast — "  Death  or  Freedom" — and  crown'd  with 

this  strain  : 

"  Independence  ! — we'll  never  relinquish  the  prize," 
Let  the  oath  be  in  thunder  proclaimed  to  the  skies. 

ODE  4. 

Come  crowd  around  the  festive  board, 
And  join  the  song  with  one  accord, 
Be  every  breast  with  pleasure  stored. 

And  care  and  envy  send  hence. 
Our  dear-bought  freedom  we  will  praise, 
Dear-bought  freedom — dear-bought  freedom — 
Our  dear-bought  freedom  we  will  praise. 

The  right  of  our  descendants  ; 
Our  dear-bought  freedom  we  will  praise. 
And  every  glowing  heart  shall  raise 
The  chorus  of  our  joyful  lays. 
Columbia's  Independence. 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S.  99. 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Be  party  rancour  banished  hence, 
For  peace  is  virtue's  recompence  ; 
Friendship  and  love  on  no  pretence 

Should  ever  meet  with  hinderance. 
Let  sons  of  Freedom  e'er  agree — 
.^ons  of  Freedom — sons  of  Freedom — 
Let  sons  of  Freedom  e'er  agree, 

In  amity's  attendance; 
Let  sons  of  Freedom  e'er  agree, 
For  why  should  men,  existing  free, 
Deform,  with  Discord's  stormy  sea — 

Columbia's  Independence  ? 

We  here  assemble  to  rejoice 
That  patriots,  with  united  voice, 
Once  rose  and  made  this  manly  choice, 

For  them  and  their  descendants. 
They  Freedom's  eagle  raised  on  high — 
Freedom's  eagle — Freedom's  eagle — 
They  Freedom's  eagle  raised  on  high, 

Amid  the  stars'  resplendence ; 
They  Freedom's  eagle  raised  on  high, 
And  swore  to  fight  or  bravely  die, 
If  foreign  despots  dare  deny 

Columbia's  Independence. 


100  WOODWORTH'S.  Patriot! 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Bellona  goads  her  foaming  steeds, 
Beneath  her  car  Oppression  bleeds, 
And  Tyranny  with  haste  recedes. 

With  all  his  curst  attendants; 
Our  patriot  fathers  gainM  the  day — 
Patriot  fathers — patriot  fathers — 
Our  patriot  fathers  gain'd  the  da}*, 

For  them  and  their  descendants ; 
Our  patriot  fathers  gain'd  the  day, 
For  which  we  raise  the  joyful  lay. 
And  on  our  banners  still  display 

Columbia's  Independence. 

Then  Freedom  bade  her  temple  rise. 
Whose  fabric  every  foe  defies, 
While  joyous  seraphs  from  the  skies 

Bestow  their  glad  attendance ; 
And  shades  of  martyrs  smiling  see — 
Shades  of  martyrs — shades  of  martyrs — 
And  shades  of  martyrs  smiling  see 

The  joy  of  their  descendants; 
And  shades  of  martyrs  smiling  see 
Their  sons  united,  brave  and  free, 
And  yearly  hail,  with  mirth  and  glee? 

Columbia' t  Independence, 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  101 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

ODE  5. 
Written  for  the  celebration  of  a  Society  of  Printers- 

While  around  the  festive  board 

The  sons  of  Freedom  throng, 
And  bid  her  praises  rise, 

In  patriotic  song  ; 
Ye  brethren  of  our  heaven-born  art, 

Unite  to  hail  the  day  ; 
Let  joy  expand  each  patriot  heart, 

Each  tongue  assist  the  lay. 
Arise,  'tis  Freedom's  natal  morn, 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,*  arise, 
For  ever  swear  to  guard 

The  dearly  purchased  prize. 

Mankind  in  darkness  groped, 

Their  blind  and  erring  way, 
Deep  veiFd  in  Gothic  shades, 

With   scarce  a  glimpse  of  day, 
'Till  FAUST  arose  and  bid  our  art 

Illume  their  darken'd  mind  ; 
Then  Independence  fired  the  heart, 

Which  knowledge  had  refined. 


Faust — the  Inventor  of  the  Art  of  Printing, 

9* 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 


Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Arise,  'tis  Freedom's  natal  morn, 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,  arise, 
For  ever  swear  to  guard 

The  dearly-purchas'd  prize. 

But  long  they  sought  in  vain 

To  win  the  heavenly  prize  j 
Oppression's  lengthen  'd  reign 

Their  ardent  wish  denies. 
Till  o'er  our  hard-earn'd  Western  soil 

He  dared  his  sceptre  wield  ; 
"Twas  then  our  sires,  with  blood  and  toil, 

Gain'd  freedom  and  the  field. 
Arise,  'tis  Freedom's  natal  morn, 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,  arise, 
For  ever  swear  to  guard 

The  dearly-purchas'd  prize. 

Then  smiling  Peace  was  our's? 

And  every  earthly  bliss, 
Till  Europe's  treacherous  powers, 

Betray'd  us  with  a  kiss. 
But,  like  our  fathers,  now  we'll  rise, 

Our  birthrights  to  maintain  — 
Swear  by  the  God  of  earth  and  skies; 

No  tyrant  here  shall  reign. 
Arise,  'tis  Freedom's  natal  morn, 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,  arise,  &c. 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Then  let  the  foe  advance, 

The  press  shall  still  inspire, 
To  wield  the  missive  lance, 

Or  guide  the  vengeful  fire  ; 
And  here  we  swear,  when  Freedom  calls. 

We'll  not  refuse  to  die  5 
The  foe  shall  see  beneath  our  balls,* 

His  columns  fall  in  pye. 
Arise,  'tis  Freedom's  natal  morna 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,  arise, 
For  ever  swear  to  guard, 

The  dearly-purchas'd  prize. 

Long  ere  a  foreign  flag, 

O'er  tops  Columbia's  stripes, 
We'll  forge  our  sticks  to  arms, 

To  balls  convert  our  types. 
We'll  never  flinch,  but  give  them  chase, 

Display  our  mystic  STARS, 
Our  Eagle  still  shall  hold  his  place, 

And  hurl  the  shafts  of  Mars. 
Arise,  'tis  Freedom's  natal  morn, 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,  arise, 
For  ever  swear  to  guard 

The  dearly-purchas'd  prize. 

The  words  in  italics  are  technical  terms,  peculiar  to  the  Art, 


104  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 
Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Who  threats  with  foreign  rule, 

Our  shooting-sticks  defy  5 
We'll  have  a  brush  with  all, 

Before  we  take  thfe  lie. 
We'll  hush  the  English  lion's  roar, 

French  cannon  we'll  compose, 
The  form  of  tyranny  beat  o'er, 

And  hot-press  all  our  foes. 
Arise,  ^is  Freedom's  natal  mom. 

Ye  sons  of  FAUST,  arise, 
For  ever  swear  to  guard 

The  dearly-purchas'd  prize. 

Long  may  we  keep  the  morn, 

Which  gave  our  nation  birth, 
And  when,  at  length,  our  works 

Are  finished  here  on  earth — 
May  we  our  Heavenly  Author  mee^ 

(Our  earthly  forms  forsook) 
And  each  become  a  perfect  sheet 

In  His  eternal  book. 
Till  then,  on  Freedom's  natal  morn. 

Let  joyful  paeans  rise  : 
To-day  for  us  was  born, 

The  goddess  of  the  skies. 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  J  Q;» 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

ODE  6. 

Written  for  the  celebration  of  Independence  by  the 
New-York  Typographical  Society. 

From  the  crystalline  courts  of  the  temple  of  light, 

The  dove-eye  of  mercy  to  earth  was  directed, 
Where  mortals  were  grov'ling,  deep-shrouded  in  night  ; 
For  passion  was  worshipp'd  and  wisdom  rejected : 
Immersed  in  each  ill 
Of  corrupted  free-will, 

Yet,  mercy  was  patient,  and  vengeance  slept  still : 
For  infinite  Love  had  his  banner  unfurPd, 
And  the  precepts  of  wisdom  were  preach'd  to  the 
world. 

But  haughty  Ambition  extended  his  reign, 

And  wielded  the  sceptre  of  magic  delusion, 
Held  reason  enshackled  in  tyranny's  chain, 

And  govern'd  by  knowledge  and  learning's  exclusion : 
With  mitre  and  hood, 
Superstition  and  blood, 

Corruption  and  vice  deluged  earth  like  a  flood ; 
The  blood-crimson'd  banner  of  war  was  unfurPd, 
And  knowledge  and  learning  were  swept  from  the 
world. 


106  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Deep  lockM  in  the  shrine  of  antiquity's  lore, 

The  scriptures  of  light  were  withheld  unexpounded? 
A  counterfeit  Peter  still  guarded  the  door, 

And  the  seekers  of  truth  were  by  error  confounded. 
Omnipotence  saw — 
Bade  delusion  withdraw, 

And  ordain'd  that  OUR  ART  should  promulgate  his  law. 
Then  Genius  its  fetters  at  Tyranny  hurl'd, 
And  Printing  appeared  to  enlighten  the  world. 

The  blush  of  Aurora  now  lighted  the  East, 

And  banish'd  the  darkness  of  mystical  terror  : 
Man  sprang  from  the  shrine  where  he'd  worship'd  the 

beast, 

While  prejudice  own'd  and  relinquished  his  error, 
The  truth  was  received, 
Admired  and  believed, 

And  our's  is  the  art  which  the  blessing  achieved : 
For  now  was  the  banner  of  wisdom  unfurFd, 
And  Printing  promulgated  truth  through  the  world. 

The  sage  of  Genoa,  whose  high-soaring  soul, 

By  a  flash  from  our  art,  glow'd  with  new  inspiration ; 
In  brilliant  perspective  saw  glory's  bright  goal, 

And  enroll 'd  a  new  world  on  the  page  of  creation, 
With  fame-swelling  breast, 
Still  onward  he  press'd, 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  Aim-rican  Independence. 

Till  Eden's  bright  regions  appeard  in  the  West, 
Each  clime  saw  the  canvas  of  Europe  Unfiirl'd, 
While  Printing  taught  commerce  to  polish  the  world. 

But  the  sons  of  the  West,  to  more  glory  were  born ; 

And  to  us  shall  proud  Europe  the  laurel  surrender  : 
For  though  her's  was  the  blushing  effulgence  of  morn. 
Yet  our's  is  the  noon  of  meridian  splendour ; 
For  Heaven  decreed 
That  Columbia  be  freed, 

And  Printing  and  valour  accomplish'd  the  deed. 
The  banner  of  war  was  by  Justice  unfurFd, 
And  freedom  by  Printing  proclaim'd  to  the  world. 

Our  Standard  the  Eagle  of  Libert}*  bears, 

His   eyes,  like  the  stars  which    surround  him,  re 
splendent  ; 

While  the  olive  asks  peace,  every  arrow  declares, 
"  Columbia  for  ever  shall  be  Independent ;" 
For  freedom  is  our's, 
Nor  shall  Europe's  mad  powers 
A  feather  e'er  filch  from  our  bird  as  he  towers ; 
And  while  Printing  its  influence  extends  through 

the  world, 
The  banner  of  freedom  shall  never  be  furlM. 


108  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence . 

ODE  7. 
For  the  Netc-York  Typographical  Society. 

When  o'er  proud  Tiber's  flood 

Fair  Science  rear'd  her  dome. 
And  Greece  had  lent  her  arts 

To  gild  imperial  Rome, 
Ambitious  Genius  aim'd  her  flight 

To  seek  unknown  renown. 
But,  veil'd  in  sable  shades  of  night. 

She  sunk  bewilderd  down  ; 
For  fate  to  them  denied  the  art 

Which  gives  fair  knowledge  birth. 
Refines  the  human  heart, 

And  scatters  bliss  on  earth. 

No  soft  refinements  graced 

Or  harmonized  the  mind, 
For  madd'ning  wars  career 

Left  calmer  joys  behind  ; 
The  social  ties  which  life  endear 

Their  thoughts  could  ne'er  engage  : 
The  sympathetic  smile  and  tear 

Were  lost  in  battle's  rage  : 
For  fate  to  them  denied  the  art 

Which  gives  fair  knowledge  birth. 
Refines  the  human  heart, 

And  scatters  bliss  on  earth. 


Patriot..-  WOOD  WORTH'S.  10Q 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American   hidependouce. 

Time  told  a  thousand  years 

On  his  eventful  page, 
When  Faust,  at  length,  appears 

To  bless  the  happy  age  ; 
His  plastic  hand  lends  Genius  wings, 

Bids  Wisdom  proudly  soar, 
And  infant  Learning  joyful  springs 

With  powers  unknown  before. 
His  was  the  Heaven-descended  art 

To  give  fair  knowledge  birth, 
To  mend  the  human  heart, 

And  civilize  the  earth. 


The  sun  of  science  rose 

And  chased  the  clouds  of  night  3 
While  wondering  realms  survey'd, 

Astonish'd  at  the  sight — 
The  social  arts,  in  Wisdom's  train, 

With  love  and  peace  advance, 
Teach  man  to  feel  his  fellow's  pain.. 

A  brother's  joy  enhance. 
Ours  is  the  Heaven-descended  art 

To  give  fair  knowledge  birth, 
To  mend  the  human  heart. 

And  civilize  the  earth. 


HO  WOODWORTH'b.  Patriotic, 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Hail,    art  of  arts  !  all  hail  ! 

Thy  praises  mock  the  lyre  5 
To  reach  the  boundless  theme, 

Its  tones  in  vain  aspire  ; 
But  grateful  hearts,  who  feel  the  bliss 

Thy  magic  power  bestows. 
Respond  to  every  strain  like  this, 

How  dull  soe'er  it  flows  : 
Our's  is  the  Heaven-descended  art 

To  give  fair  knowledge  birth, 
To  mend  the  human  heart, 

And  civilize  the  earth. 


ODE  8. 
For  the  New-York  Typographical  Society. 

Awake  the  loud  trumpet,  'tis  Freedom  invites. 

Let  heroes  unite  in  the  strain ; 
The  olive  of  PEACE  with  the  laurel  unites, 

And  music  swells  sweet  o'er  the  plain. 
Thy  birth,  Independence,  by  freemen  be  kept, 

Till  Tyranny's  banner  be  furl'd, 
Till  despots  have  bled,  where  their  victims  have  wept. 

And  Freedom  has  spread  o'er  the  world. 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Ill 


Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

When  dark  Superstition  had  fetter'd  the  mind. 

And  Reason  in  bondage  was  bound. 
The  goddess  descended  to  ransom  mankind, 

And  Genius  arose  from  the  ground. 
The  PRESS  she  established,  a  pillar  of  fire, 

(While  Night's  sable  curtain  was  furl'd,} 
Its  splendour  bade  mystic  Delusion  retire, 

And  PRINTING  gave  light  to  the  world. 

The  daring  Columbus  his  canvas  unfurl'd, 

A  nation  arose  in  the  West, 
The  store-house  of  Europe,  a  mart  for  the  world, 

A  home  for  the  poor  and  oppressed. 
Here  Freedom's  bright  temple  effulgent  shall  shine, 

Her  flag  o'er  its  turrets  unfurl'd, 
Our  arms  have  twice  saved  it,  'twill  never  decline 

While  PRINTING  gives  light  to  the  world. 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Pafiolk- 


Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

ODE  9* 

For  the  New~York  Typographical  Society. 

When,  wrapped  in  folds  of  papal  gloom, 

Dark  Superstition  awed  the  world, 
Consign'd  fair  Knowledge  to  the  tomb, 

And  Error's  sable  flag  unfurPd  5 
Earth  heard  this  mandate  from  the  skies  — 
"  Let  there  be  light  —  great  ART  arise." 

Fair  Science  wiped  her  tears  and  smiled* 
And  infant  Genius  plumed  his  wing  : 

The  Arts  assemble  round  the  child, 
And  all  this  glowing  chorus  sing  — 

Rise,  sun  of  science  !  quick  arise  .' 

And  lend  thy  light  to  darken  *d  eyes. 

Our  Art  arose,  and  man  had  light, 

The  clouds  of  superstition  fled, 
The  fiend  of  ignorance  took  his  flight, 

D  Of 

And  Error  hid  his  hateful  head  ; 
Whilst  swelFd  this  chorus  to  the  skies  — 
;i  Our  Art  shall  live,  and  Freedom  rise."" 

The  goddess,  who  for  ages  past, 
Had  wept  beneath  despotic  night, 

Her  cankering  fetters  burst  at  last, 
And  claim'd  the  charter  of  her  risjht  : 


Patriotfc.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  113 

Odes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

While  men  and  seraphs  join'd  this  strain — 
"  Printing  shall  live,  and  Freedom  reign." 

Hail,  Freedom  !  hail,  celestial  guest ! 

O  never  from  thy  sons  depart ; 
Thine  be  the  empire  of  the  West, 

Thy  temple  every  freeman's  heart  5 
The  Art  of  Printing  gave  thee  birth, 
And  brightens  still  thy  reign  on  earth. 

Arise,  ye  favour'd  sons  of  light, 

Professors  of  our  heaven-born  Art — 

And  in  the  chorus  all  unite, 

While  joy  expands  each  throbbing  heart : 

"  The  Art  of  Printing  shall  endure, 

And  Independence  be  secure." 


30* 


114  WOODWORTH'S .  Patriotic. 

OJes  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

ODE  10. 
For  the  New-York  Typographical  Society. 

Hail  to  the  Art  whose  effulgence  has  brightenM 

The  darkness  that  shroucted,  for  ages,  the  world  ; 
Long  shall  fair  Freedom,  by  Printing  enlightened, 
Wave  the  bright  banner  her  sons  have  unfurl'd. 

Dark  was  the  human  mind, 

And  hood-wink'd  Reason  blind, 
While  Tyranny  gave  to  his  war-steeds  the  rein  ;,. 

Then  Faust  arose  to  bless, 

And  gave  to  man  the  press, 
Free  as  the  billows  of  Neptune's  domain. 

Then  Liberty  rous'd  from  the  slumber  of  ages, 

And  taught  a  new  nation  to,  rise  in  the  West; 
While  History,  smiling,  unfolded  her  pages, 
And  show'd  the  bright  name  of  Columbia  impress^ 

Long  fought  her  patriot  band, 

Blood  flow'd  around  the  land, 
Till  Liberty  triumph'd  o'er  Tyranny's  powers  5 

The  light  w-hiqli  Printing  shed, 

Like  SoFs  effulgence  spread, 
And  Glory,  with  bright  Independence,  was  pur's* 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Ode  for  the  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

Beaming  with  splendour,  from  Liberty's  altar, 

Ascended  the  flame  which  our  Art  had  kept  bright, 
When  demons  united  again  to  assault  her, 
Demolish  her  shrine,  and  extinguish  its  light. 

Hark  !  trumpets  sound  alarms, 

Drums,  bugles,  call  to  arms  — 
Arouse,  freemen,  rouse  !  to  the  field  like  your  sires  ! 

Soon  shall  the  foemen  yield> 

Or  fly  the  embattled  field, 
For  Liberty  triumphs  while  Printing  inspires. 

Twice  have  our  arms  Independence  protected, 

And  twice  haughty  Britain  has  yielded  the  fight  ; 
Long  shall  our  valour  and  rights  be  respected? 
Long  shall,  the  blaze  of  our  glory  be  bright. 
Then  hail  the  heaven-born  Art, 
Which  first  improved  the  heart, 
And  ransom'dthe  mind  from  the  thraldom  of  sense  ? 
Long  shall  Columbia  bless 
The  free  unshackled  Press, 
Liberty's  ./Egis,  and  Virtue's  defence. 


116  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic, 

The  Bugle— or  Chandler's  Surprise. 

THE  BUGLE. 

Deep  murmuring  down  the  lonely  dell, 
The  dull  tattoo,  with  drowsy  swell, 
Had  bid  the  march-worn  soldier  rest, 
With  armour  buckled  on  his  breast. 

But,  hark !  what  cry  alarms  ? 

The  foe  at  hand  ! — to  arms  ! 

And,  darting  from  the  ground, 

The  slumbering  veterans  bound, 
While  the  Bugle  sounds  the  CHARGE,  rousing  echo  with 
the  sound. 

And  now  the  cannon's  sullen  roar 
Deep  rolls  along  Ontario's  shore, 
While  Freedom's  sons  surprised  remain, 
Their  watchword  stole — their  pickets  slain. 

In  vain  their-  trump  alarms, 

In  vain  they  cry,  to  arms  ! 

The  foe  from  ambush  springs, 

Their  yell  the  welkin  rings, 

While  the  Bugle  sounds  RETREAT,  adding  speed  to  ter 
ror's  wings. 

Shall  Freedom's  veterans  fly  the  field, 
Her  heroes  shrink — her  chieftains  yield  ? 
Sayr  where's  the  spirit  of  the  brave 
Who  bled  Columbia's  rights  to  save  ? 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  1  1  f 

Ode  for  the  Presidential  iri;iui»  ura'ion,  Murch  4,   1817. 

It  lives  !  it  breathes  !  it  warms  ! 
Roused  by  the  clash  of  arms, 
Vengeance,  with  eye  of  flame, 
Fires  with  a  love  of  fame, 

While  the  Bude  sounds  the  RALLY,  until  victory  we 
claim. 


INAUGURATION  ODE. 

While  the  vassals  of  Tyranny  rivet  their  chains 
By  birth-day  effusions,  and  base  adulation, 

Let  freemen  express,  in  their  holiday  strains, 
The  voice  of  a  people  —  the  choice  of  a  nation. 

Let  laureats  sing  for  the  birth  of  a  king, 
-"Tis  ours  to  rejoice  for  the  first  fruits  of  spring  ; 

For  still  shall  the  Fourth  Day  of  March  ever  yield 

A  harvest  of  glory  in  Liberty's  field. 

Encircled  with  glory,  the  Chieftain  retires, 

Who  led  us  in  safety  thro'  war's  dread  commotion  ; 

While  the  spirit  that  rais'd  him,  another  inspires, 
To  watch  o'er  our  rights  with  equal  devotion. 

MONROE  shall  preside,  his  countrymen's  pride, 
The  Soldier,  the  Statesman,  the  Patriot  well  tried 

And  thus  shall  the  Fourth  Day  of  March  ever  yield. 

V  harvest  of  glory  in  Liberty's  field. 


118  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 

Ode  for  the  Presidential  Inauguration,  1817. 

To  legitimate  tyrants  no  freeman  shall  bow — 
To  VIRTUE  alone  will  we  pay  veneration  : 

The  Chiefs  of  Columbia  are  call'd  from  the  plough. 
And  retire  from  the  chair  to  the  same  occupation. 
Thus  TOMPKINS  arose,  in  the  face  of  his  foes. 

For  the  path  of  a  patriot  the  "  Farmers  Boy"  chose ; 

And  thus  shall  the  Fourth  Day  cf  March  ever  yield 

A  harvest  of  glory  in  Liberty's  field. 

Then  hail  to  the  day  that  beholds  us  once  more 

Place  the  chaplet  of  power  on  the  brow  of  true  merit: 
*Tis  the  sacred  insignia  our  WASHINGTON  wore — 
A  legacy  none  but  the  good  shall  inherit : 
To  the  Patriot  MONROE  the  tribute  we  owe, 
Till  the  people  reclaim  it  again  to  bestow  5 
And  the  Fourth  Day  of  March  be  again  made  to  yield 
A  harvest  of  glory  in  Liberty's  field. 

Let  freemen  unite  on  this  festival  day 

To  celebrate  Liberty's  triumph  in  chorus ; 

Awaken  the  trumpet — our  banners  display, 

And  hail  the  bright  prospect  that  opens  before  us ; 
In  paeans  of  joy  your  voices  employ, 

For  the  Patriot  MONROE,  and  our  own  <  FARMER'S  BOY  f 

And  ne'er  may  the  Fourth  Day  of  March  cease  to  yield 

A  harvest  of  glory  in  Liberty's  field. 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Hiberaia's  Tears. 


HIBERNtA'S  TEARS. 

Hibernians  tears  for  ever  flow, 

Her  harp  in  silence  slumbers  '; 
Her  bards  the  patriot  song  forego. 

Nor  dare  to  breathe  its  numbers. 
No  more  they  bid  the  swelling  tone 

In  Freedom's  cause  awaken  ; 
Those  happy  days  of  bliss  are  flown, 

And  Erin  weeps  forsaken  ! 

But  though  her  sons  in  exile  roam, 

They  sleep  on  Freedom's  pillow  ; 
And  Erin's  daughters  find  a  home, 

Beyond  the  western  billow. 
There  shall  they  breathe  the  glowing  strain, 

To  joy's  ecstatic  numbers  ; 
There  Erin's  harp  shall  wake  again., 

In  rapture,  from  its  slumbers. 


120  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Patriotic. 

The  Exiled  Harper. 

THE  EXILED  HARPER. 

<• 

<k/  Friendless  exile  !  old  and  hoary, 

Banish  sorrow  and  complaint, 
Wake  thy  harp  to  Erin?s  glory, 

Sing  the  lay  of  Erin's  saint.7' 

*Twas  Saint  Patrick's  festal  morning, 
When  I  met  th  e  man  of  grief ; 

On  his  cheek  the  tear  was  burning, 
Wither'd  was  the  shamrock's  leaf. 

"  No  !  (exclaim'd  the  aged  stranger) 

Erin's  glory  is  no  more, 
Hordes  of  bloody  tyrants  range  her — 

Freedom  flies  Hibernia's  shore. 

*'*  Shackled  with  the  yoke  of  Britain; 

Doom'd  to  vassalage  and  chains, 
Be  her  name  nor  sung  nor  written 

Till  oppression  fly  her  plains, 

"  Bright  she  shines  in  ancient  legends. 

When  her  sons  awoke  the  lay, 
Ere  her  peaceful  verdant  regions 

Groan'd  beneath  ambition's  sway. 


patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


The  Exiled  Harper. 


"  Ask  me  not  to  sing  of  glory  ; 

For,  by  all  the  griefs  I  bear, 
By  these  scatter'd  locks  so  hoary, 

By  our  holy  saint,  I  swear  ^ 

^  Erin's  harp  shall  ever  slumber, 
Never  whisper  through  the  vale, 

Never  breathe  a  tuneful  number 
Pregnant  with  dishonour's  tale. 

•-  Fallen  are  the  chiefs  of  Erin, 

Fallen  in  their  country?s  cause, 
Green  their  tombs  are  now  appearing, 

There  her  weeping  daughters  pause. 

*•  When  the  night-blast  scours  the  mountains,, 
When  it  murmurs  through  the  groves, 

Mournful,  by  the  dusky  fountains, 
EMMET'S  shade  in  sadness  moves. 

-  See,  it  points  to  ^urs'd  oppression  ! 

Hark  !  its  shrieks  arrest  the  gale  ! 
Hurl  your  thunders  on  aggression, 

Bid  our  warriors  fill  the  vale. 

•"  Veterans,  rouse  !  and  save  your  natioft  ! 

Hark  !  the  trumpet  calls  to  arms  !" 
**  Stranger  !  calm  this  perturbation, 

Here  no  martial  trump  alarms/* 
11 


WOODWORTH'S.  Patriotic. 


The  Exiled  Harper. 


In  his  eye,  where  fire  was  beaming, 
Now  appeared  the  tear  of  grief  — 

ee  No,  he  sighed,  I  was  but  dreaming 
Erin  groans  without  relief.* 


?<  But  I'll  feed  the  fond  reflection, 
Days  of  other  months  review, 

Call  again  to  recollection 

Dear  companions  whom  I  knew. 

rt  Now  oppress'd  by  power  and  violence^ 
Not  a  harp-string  breathes  a  tone, 

Wrapt  in  sorrow,  thought,  and  silence, 
Erin's  hapless  minstrels  moan. 

f*  Sing  of  Erin's  glory  !  madness  .' 
Would  our  Saint  accept  the  lay  ? 

No  —  devote  to  silent  sadness 
This  our  patron's  festive  day." 


*  The  author  readily  acknowledges  that  this  trait  in  the  picture 
was  suggested  by  Montgomery's  Wanderer  of  Switzerland.  But  he 
declines  making  any  alteration, 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


The  fair  Irish  Orphan. 


THE  IRISH  ORPHAN. 

A  dialogue  supposed  to  have  taken  place  between  a  citizen- 
of  New-York,  and  a  female  Irish  emigrant. 

Citizen. 

Irish  maiden,  whither  fly  you? 

Whence  the  moisture  on  your  cheek  ? 
Danger  here  shall  not  come  nigh  you  —  • 

Tell  me  what,  and  whom,  you  seek. 

Irish   Girl. 

Pity,  sir,  a  hapless  stranger, 

Friendless  on  a  foreign  shore  ! 
Much,  alas  !  I  fear  of  danger  — 

I'm  from  Erin  just  come  o'er. 

Citizen. 

Where's  your  kindred,  friend,  protector  B 

Sure  you  ventured  not  alone  ? 
Had  you  not  some  kind  director  ? 

Father,  brother  —  have  you  none  ? 

Irish   Girl 

Yes,  I  have  —  I  had  a  brother, 

Once  a  widowed  parent's  stay  ; 
Yes,  alas  !  I  had  a  mother  — 

Both  by  fate  were  snatch*  d  awav  ! 


(24  WOOD  WORTHS.  Patriotic. 

The  fair  Irish  '/rplian. 

Citizen. 

Then,  an  orphan,  unprotected, 
You  have  left  your  native  isle, 

To  Columbia's  shore  directed, 

Where  you  meet  no  kindred  smile? 

Irish   GirL 

!\7o — a  parent,  and  a  brother, 
With  me  from  oppression  run ; 

Death  deprived  me  of  my  mother — 
Cruel  Britons  pressed  her  son. 

Under  Freedom's  banner  sailing, 
Just  in  view  of  Freedom's  shore,. 

Brightening  prospects  Hope  was  hailing,. 
Whispering  future  bliss  in  store : 

When  we  spied  the  flag  of  Briton, 

Where  foreboding  fancy  read 
Some  impending  evil  written — 

How  my  bosom  beat  with  dread  ! 

First,  a  shot  our  course  arrested, 

Then  their  slaves  disgraced  our  deck 

Fathers  from  their  children  wrested ! 
S«n  from  parent's — sister's  neck  I 


Patriotie.  WOODWORTH'S.  125 

The  fair  Irish  <  M-pha'i 

Spare !  I  cried,  oh !  spare  my  brother ! 

Spare  him  for  a  parent's  sake  ! 
Save .'  oh  .'  save  him  .'  cried  my  mother, 

Or  his  sister's  heart  will  break  ! 

Smiling  pirates  !  they  but  mockM  us  I 
Laugh'd  at  fond  affection's  grief! 

And  with  brutal  language  shork'd  usy 
While  we  wept  without  relief! 


i 


But  when  from  us  they  departed, 
Shrieks  of  anguish  pierced  the  air !" 

Then  my  mother,  broken  hearted. 
Fell,  the  victim  of  despair  ! 

Pity,  then,  a  hapless  stranger, 
Friendless  on  a  foreign  shore  ! 

O  protect  a  maid  from  danger, 
Who  for  comfort  looks  no  more ! 

Citizen. 

Yes,  fair  daughter  of  oppression  ! 

Exile  from  Hibernians  plains, 
Victim  of  that  curs'd  aggression 

Which  the  flag  of  freedom  stains  ; 

Here  I  swear  to  be  thy  brother  j. 

See  a  sister  in  my  wife ; 
Find  a  parent  in  my  mother — 

I'll  protect  thee  with  my  life.. 

IT* 


126  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Naval  and 

Victory   No.  1— Cousfilution  and  Guerriere. 

VICTORY  No.  l. 
CONSTITUTION  AND  GUERRIERE. 

Hark  !  ?twas  the  trumpet  of  victory  sounded  f 

Welcome  the  strain  to  a  freeman  so  dear  ; 
See,  with  a  halo  of  glory  surrounded, 

HULL,  ourjirst  hero,  in  triumph  appear  ! 
Vainly  the  foeman  his  prowess  had  vaunted, 

'Proudly  deriding  our  infantile  fleet ; 
HULL  met  the  boaster  with  courage  undaunted, 
DACRES,  as  resolute,  scorn'd  to  retreat. 
Short  was  the  dreadful  fray, 
On  that  eventful  day, 

Freedom's  proud  eagle  still  hovered  on  high  : 
Bright  gleam 'd  the  crosslet  too, 
While  fierce  the  volleys  flew, 
Shaking  tlie  ocean  and  rending  the  sky. 

Short  was  the  contest,  but  dreadful  the  slaughter. 

Long  shall  Britannia  lament  for  her  tars ; 
Death  held  his  carnival  on  the  deep  water, 

Scattered  with  carnage  and  fragments  of  spars. 
Still,  like  a  tempest,  the  bold  Constitution 

Deluged  the  foeman  with  ruin  and  blood; 
Whelm'd  the  proud  Warrior  in  horrid  confusion. 

Till  she  lay.?  sparless,  a  log  on  the  flood,, 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Naval  Victory  No    1 — Constitution  and  Guerriere. 

Still  she  prolonged  the  fray, 

On  that  destructive  day, 
Still  Freedom's  banner  was  waving  on  high. 

Low  gleanrd  the  cross  in  view, 

While  fierce  the  volleys  flew, 
Shaking  the  ocean  and  rending  the  sky. 

Short  was  the  contest — the  Warrior  surrendered, 
Covered  with  carnage  and  streaming  with  gore 
Tenderest  aid  to  the  wounded  was  rendered, 

Foemen  once  vanquished  are  foemen  no  more. 
Hail,  then,  the  hero,  who,  covered  with  glory, 

Humbled  the  pride  of  our  arrogant  foe ; 
Long  may  his  name  be  emblazon'd  in  story, 
Long  may  his  laurels  continue  to  grow. 
Then  shout  aloud  his  name, 
And  loud  the  deed  proclaim — 
HULL  taught  Britannia's  red  cross  to  descend  ; 
HULL  led  the  glorious  way, 
HuLL/bttgfa,  and  won  the  day — 
Victory  crowns  him,  and  Freemen  eommend, 


j28  WOODWORTH'S.  Naval  and 

Victory  No.  2 — Wasp  and  Frolic. 

VICTORY  No.  2. 

WASP  AND  FROLIC. 

Awake  the  bugle's  martial  voice. 

In  loud  triumphant  strain  ; 
Columbia's  sons  again  rejoice 
For   Victory  on  the  Main! 
Another  chieftain  of  our  choice — 
The  brave  intrepid  Jones, 
Claims  our  lays, 
To  his  praise, 
We  wake  the  clarion's  tones. 

Indignant  at  the  wrongs  we  bore, 

From  British  pride  and  hate, 
He,  fearless,  left  Columbia's  shore. 

To  try  the  battle's  fate  ; 
And  soon  the  cannon's  mingled  roar r 
Announced  the  foe  engaged — 
Side  by  side, 
On  the  tide, 
The  dreadful  fight  they  waged* 

The  horrid  din  of  battle  swelFdr 

As  'o'er  the  watery  field, 
An  equal  course  the  vessels  held. 

Resolving  ne'er  to  yield- 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Vii  lory  Ao.  2  —  Wasp 


Attempts  at  boarding  still  repell'd, 
And  still  the  fire  was  poured  ; 

Bright  it  broke 

Through  the  smoke, 
While  loud  the  cannons  roar'd. 

The  vessels  close—  and,  hark  !  the  crash 

That  rends  their  groaning  planks  ; 
The  foeman's  fire  has  ceas'd  to  flash, 

For  death  has  thimvd  his  ranks  ; 
And  nought  avail'd  his  valour  rash, 
He  yields  to  gallant  Jones  — 
To  whose  praise 
Wake  our  lays, 
In  victory's  richest  tones. 


130  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Naval  and 

Victory  No.  3     tinned  Mates  and  Macedonian. 

VICTORY  No.,3.. 
UNITED  STATES  AND  MACEDONIAN. 

The  banner  of  FREEDOM  high  floated  unfurl 'd, 
While  the  silver-tipt  surges  in  low  homage  curPd, 
Flashing  bright  round  the  bow  of  a  ship  under  sail, 
In  fight,  like  the  tempest — in  speed,  like  the  gale. 
She  bears  our  country's  name, 
She  builds  our  country's  fame, 
The  bold  United  States,  disdains  to  yield  or  fly ; 
Her  motto  is  "  Glory — we  conquer  or  die." 

All  canvas  expanded  the  gale  to  embrace, 
The  ship  clear'd  for  action,  still  nearing  the  chase  5 
The  foeman  in  view — every  bosom  beats  high, 
All  eager  for  conquest,  or  ready  to  die. 

Columbia's  gallant  tars, 

Who  sail  beneath  her  stars, 

Shall  ne'er  be  known  to  yield — shall  ne'er  ignobly  fly 
Their  motto  is  "  Glory — we  conquer  or  die." 

Still  rapidly  lessens  the  distance  between, 
Till  the  gay-floating  streamers  of  Britain  are  seen ; 
Till  our  quick-sighted  chief  could  with  rapture  espy, 
The  cross,  like  a  meteor,  gleaming  on  high. 

To  gild  our  country's  name, 

To  rival  Hull  in  fame, 


Patriotic.  VVOODWORTH'b. 


Victory  No.  3 — I  nited  btates  and  Macedonian. 

The  brave  Decatur  now  resolves  the  fight  to  try — 
His  motto  is  u  Glory — we  conquer  or  die." 

Now  Havoc  stands  ready  with  optics  of  flame. 
And  battle-hounds  strain  on  the  start  for  the  game ; 
The  blood-demons  rise  on  the  surge  for  their  prey., 
While  Pity,  dejected,  awaits  the  dread  fray. 

But  Freedom's  gallant  sons, 

Now  station'd  at  their  guns, 

Remember  Freedom's  wrongs,  and  smother  Pity's  sigh ; 
Their  motto  is  "  Glory — we  conquer  or  die." 

Now  the  lightning  of  battle  gleams  horribly  red, 
Wliile  a  tempest  of  iron,  and  a  hail-storm  of  lead, 
Like  a  flood  on  the  foe  was  so  copiously  pour'd, 
That  his  mizen  and  topmasts  soon  went  by  the  board. 

Still  fight  Columbia's  tars, 

Beneath  the  stripes  and  stars, 

For  still  their  country's  flag  is  proudly  floating  high — 
Their  motto  is  "  Glory — we  conquer  or  die*"* 

The  contest  continued  with  horrible  roar, 
The  demons  of  vengeance  still  feasting  on  gore ; 
Till  more  than  an  hundred  of  Britain's  brave  sons 
Lay  bleeding  on  deck  by  the  side  of  their  guns  : 

When  low  the  cross  descends, 

And  quick  the  battle  ends, 

The  Macedonian  yields,  her  streamers  kiss  the  wave,; 
Our  motto  is  "  Glory — we  conquer  to  save." 


132  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Naval  and 

Victory  No.  4 — Constitution  ami  Java. 

Let  Britain  no  longer  lay  claim  to  the  seas, 
For  the  trident  of  Neptune  is  our's,  if  we  please ; 
While  Hull,  and  Decatur,  and  Jones,  are  our  boast, 
In  vain  their  huge  navy  may  threaten  our  coast. 
They  ?ild  Columbia's  name, 
They  build  Columbia's  fame ; 
And  to  revenge  our  wrongs,  to  battle  eager  fly ; 
Their  motto  is  "  Glory — we  conquer  or  die? 

VICTORY  No.  4. 
CONSTITUTION  AND  JAVA. 

Yankee  tars  !  come,  join  the  chorus, 

Shout  aloud  the  patriot  strain  ; 
Freedom's  flag,  again  victorious, 

Floats  triumphant  o'er  the  main. 
Hail  the  gallant  Constitution, 

HULL  immortalized  her  name, 
BAINBRIDGE,  round  it,  in  profusion. 

Pours  the  golden  blaze  of  fame. 

Scarce  had  Fame  her  Hull  rewarded* 

Kre  intrepid  Eainbridge  rose, 
Eager,  while  the  world  applauded, 

To  subdue  his  country's  foes. 
Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 


fatriotic.  WOODWORTH'S.  133 

Victory  No.  4 — Constitution  and  Java. 

Hull,  on  board  the  Constitution, 
Sunk  his  foe  beneath  the  flood  ; 

Fired  with  equal  resolution, 

Bainbridge  sought  the  scene  of  blood. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Lambert  met  him  in  the  Java, 
Fierce  the  hot  contention  rose — 

Like  the  streams  of  Etna?s  lava, 
Fell  our  vengeance  on  the  foes. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Neptune  shumvd  the  fierce  commotion, 
Saw  his  realm  with  carnage  spread, 

Saw  our  fire  illume  the  ocean, 
Covered  with  the  floating  dead. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Twice  had  Time  his  glass  inverted, 
While  the  strife  deform'd  the  flood, 

Ere  the  fiend  of  death,  diverted, 
Ceased  to  glut  on  human  blood. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

See,  our  foe,  upon  the  billow, 

Floats  a  wreck  without  a  spar- 
Lowly  lies  on  ocean's  pillow, 

Many  a  brave  and  gallant  tar. 
Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 
12 


134  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Naval  and 

Victory   No.  4 — Constitution  an 


Hark  !  his  lee-gun  speaks  submission, 
Bid  our  vengeful  tars  forbear — 

IVlercy  views  the  foe's  condition, 
Sees  a  bleeding  brother  there. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Man  the  boats  : — the  foe,  confounded, 

Yields  to  our  superior  fire; 
Board  the  prize  '  relieve  the  wounded  I 

Ere  in  anguish  they  expire. 
Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Ah  !  the  fight  was  hard  contested, 
Groaning  there,  an  hundred  bleed^ 

Sixty-nine  has  death  arrested, 
From  their  floating  prisons  freed. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Clear  the  wreck !  she  cannot  swim,  boys 
See  !  she  follows  the  Guerriere  ! 

Now  your  cans  fill  to  the  brim,  boys,, 
Sing  our  navy's  bright  career. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution,  &c. 

Toast  the  heroes  famed  in  story, 
Hull,  Decatur,  Rodgers,  Jones: 

Bainbridge,  chief  in  naval  glory, 
Smiling  Freedom  joyful  OWHS- 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  135 

Victory  iNo.  5— Hornet  and  Peacock. 

Hail  the  gallant  Constitution, 

Hull  immjrtalized  her  name  ; 
BAINBLUDGE,  round  it,  in  profusion; 

Peurs  the  golden  blaze  of  fame. 


VICTORY  No.  5. 
HORNET  AND  PEACOCK. 

Rejoice !  rejoice !  Fredonia's  sons  rejoice ! 

And  swell  the  loud  trumpet  in  patriotic  straiia ; 
Your  choice,  your  choice,  fair  Freedom  is  your  choice^ 

Then  celebrate  her  triumphs  on  the  main. 
For  the  trident  of  Neptune,  long  by  Britain  wielded^ 
\t  length  to  Fredonia  reluctantly  is  yielded. 
Then  for  Hull,  Decatur,  Jones, 
And  for  Bainbridge,  swell  the  tones, 
While  the  ready  hand  of  Fame 
Bright  emblazons  every  name — 
.Brave  Lawrence,  gallant  Lawrence,  now  is  shouted  with 

acclaim. 
Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  boys, 

Free  is  our  soil,  and  the  ocean  shall  be  free  j 
€>ur  tars,  shall  Mars,  protect  beneath  our  stars, 
And  Freedom's  Eagle  hover  o'er  the  sea. 


136  WOODWORTH'S.  Karal  and 

Victory  No.  5— Hornet  and  Peacock. 

Attend,  attend,  ye  gallant  tars,  attend, 

While  your  deeds  are  recounted  in  patriotic  song 5 
Ascend,  ascend,  your  banners  high  ascend, 

And  3rour  cannon  the  loud  chorus  still  prolong. 
First,  the  bold  Constitution  led  the  path  of  glory,. 
The  gallant  little  Wasp  then  added  to  the  story ; 
Scon  a  brighter  glory  'waits, 
The  renown'd  United  States — 
For  she  gave  Columbia's  fleet, 
A  new  frigate  that  she  beat ; 

While  the  famed  Constitution  sunk  another  in  the  deep. 
Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  boys, 

Free  is  our  soil,  and  the  ocean  shall  be  free  ; 
Our  tars,  shall  Mars,  protect  beneath  our  stars, 
And  Freedom's  Eagle  hover  o'er  the  sea. 

Again,  again,  Columbia's  flag  again, 

Triumphantly  floats  where  Britannia's  us'd  to  soar  ; 
In  vain  the  main  has  own'd  the  Peacock's  reign, 

Her  gaudy  rainbow-honours  are  no  more ! 
For  Lawrence  taught  the  Hornet  so  fiercely  to  assail  her, 
That  all  her  boasted  prowess  in  fight  could  not  avail  her ; 

But  she  ended  her  career, 

Like  the  Java  and  Gueiriere, 

For  the  Hornet's  sting  was  ply'd, 

Till  the  sea,  with  blushes  died, 
Its  tyrant's  fifth  defeat  in  its  bosojn  sought  to  hide. 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 

Victory  No.  5—  Hornet  and  Peacock. 


Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  boys, 

Free  is  our  soil,  and  the  ocean  shall  be  free  5 

Our  tars,  shall  Mars,  protect  beneath  our  stars, 
And  Freedom's  Eagle  hover  o'er  the  sea. 

Unite,  unite,  Columbia's  sons,  unite, 

And  hurl  on  aggressors  the  tempest  they  provoke 
The  fight  is  right,  then  raise  your  sabres  bright, 
And  Britons  soon  shall  tremble  at  the  stroke. 
The  foe  on  our  coast  !  put  your  mountain-oaks  in  motion, 
Fly  to  the  main,  for  your  wrongs  were  on  the  ocean  ,5 
There,  in  a  flood  of  fire, 
Every  tar  shall  breathe  his  ire  : 
His  motto,  while  he  fights, 
Be  «  Free  Trade  and  Sailors'  Rights," 
Till  even-handed  Justice  every  injury  requites. 
Huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  huzza,  boys, 

Free  is  our  soil,  and  the  ocean  shall  be  free  $ 
Our  tars,  shall  Mars,  protect  beneath  our  stars,. 
And  Freedom's  Eagle  hover  o'er  the  sea» 


138  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Naval  and 

Victory  No.  6 — Enterprise  an  '   Boxer. 

VICTORY  No.  6. 
ENTERPRISE  AND  BOXER. 

Thro'  the  gloom  of  despondence,  bright  glory  appears. 

And  scatters  again  on  the  ocean  its  splendour  ; 
Hark !  Freedom's  loud  clarion  proclaims  to  the  spheres, 
The  names  of  more  heroes  who  die  to  defend  her. 
On  LAWRENCE'S  bier, 
Yet  glisten'd  her  tear, 

When  this  full-sounding  chorus  saluted  her  ear  : 
No  tyrant  shall  ever  rule  over  that  flood, 
Which  LAWRENCE  and  BURROWS  have  stain'd  with 
their  blood. 

Delighted,  she  listen'd,  and  learn'd  from  the  strain 
That  her  flag  was  victorious  while   Britain's   de 
scended  : 

And  though  her  tears  fell  for  the  fate  of  the  slain, 
She  gloried  in  sons  who  so  nobly  defended : 
Who  in  Liberty's  cause, 
With  Heaven's  applause, 

Had  died  in  defence  of  their  country  and  laws. 
Now  vainly  shall  tyrants  lay  claim  to  that  flood, 
"Which  LAWRENCE-  and  BURROWS  have  stain'd  with 
their  blood. 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S.  139 

Vi-.-tw-rv    No.  6— Enterprise  and  Boxer. 

Young  BURROWS,  unknown  on  the  annals  of  Fame, 

Arose  and  laid  claim  to  a  chaplet  of  laurel ; 
Fought  the  Boxer  enveloped  in  sulphur  and  flame, 
Till  the  victory  he  gain'd,  though  he  died  in  the 

quarrel. 

On  VICTORY'S  breast, 
The  hero  shall  rest, 

While  his  spirit  aspires  to  the  realms  of  the  blest. 
And  ne'er  shall  a  tyrant  rule  over  that  flood, 
Which  LAWRENCE   and  BURROWS  have  stain'd  with 
their  blood. 


Then  fill  up  your  goblets,  bid  sorrow  adieu, 

The  heroes  who  fell  are  encircled  with  glory  ; 
WThile  music  inspires,  let  us  toast  the  brave  crew, 
Who  survive  the  hot  contest,  to  tell  us  the  story  ; 
The  fight  they'll  ne'er  shun, 
For  with  gun  matclrd  to  gun, 
ln  triumph  we  only  count  six  to  their  one. 
No  tyrant  shall  ever  rule  over  that  flood, 
Which  LAWRENCE  and  BURHOWS  have  stain'd  with 
their  blood. 


140  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Naval  and 


Victories  No.  7  and  No.  11  combined — Lakes  Erie  and  Champlain. 

VICTORIES  No.  7  &  11. 

PERRY  AND  MACDONOUGH — on,  ERIE  AND  CHAMPLAIX. 
September  10,  1813,  and  September  11,  1814, 

Hail  to  the  day  which  arises  in  splendour, 

Shedding  the  lustre  of  victory  far  ! 
Long  shall  its  glory  illumine  September, 

Which  twice  beheld  freemen  the  victors  in  war, 
Rous'd  by  the  spirit  bf  heaven-born  Freedom, 

Perry  her  lightning  pours  over  the  lake  $ 
His  faulchion  a  meteor  glitters  to  lead  them, 

And  swift  on  the  foemen  in  thunders  they  break. 
Loud  swells  the  cannon's  roar, 
Round  Erie's  sounding  shore, 
Answered  in  vollej^s  by  musketry's  voice  j 
Till  Britain's  cross  descends, 
And  the  haughty  foe  bends — 
Victory  !  Glory  !  Columbians,  rejoice  ! 

Hail  to  the  day  which,  in  splendour  returning, 

Lights  us  to  conquest  and  glory  again  $ 
Time  told  a  year — still  the  war-torch  was  burning,. 

And  threw  its  red  ray  on  the  waves  of  Champlain  5 
Rous'd  by  the  spirit  that  conquer'd  for  Perry, 

Dauntless  Macdonough  advanc'd  to  the  fray  5 
Instant  the  glory  that  brightened  lake  Erie, 

Burst  on  Champlain  with  the  splendour  of  day. 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Victories  No.  7  and  No.  11  combined — Lakes  Erie  and  Champlain. 

Loud  swells  the  cannon's  roar 
On  Pittsburgh's  bloody  shore, 

Britons  retreat  from  the  tempest  of  war; 
Prevost  deserts  the  field, 
While  the  gallant  ships  yield — 

Victory !  Glory !  Columbians,  huzza ! 

Hail  to  the  day  which,  recorded  in  story, 

Lives  the  bright  record  of  unfading  fame  ; 
Long  shall  Columbians,  inspired  by  its  glory, 

Hail  its  returning  with  joyous  acclaim. 
Victory  scatter'd  profusely  the  laurel, 

Over  our  heroes,  on  land  and  on  flood ; 
Britain,  astonish'd,  relinquish'd  the  quarrel, 
Peace  saw  her  olive  arise  from  the  blood. 
Now  cannons  cease  to  roar, 
Round  Freedom's  peaceful  shore, 
Silent  and  hush'd  is  the  war-bugle's  voice ; 
Let  festive  joys  increase 
In  the  sunshine  of  peace, 
Peace  gain' d  by  victory !  Freemen,  rejoice ! 


{42  1VOOD  WORTH'S;  Naral  and 

Virtorj   No.  8 — Saratoga  and  Morgiana. 

VICTORY  No.  8. 
SARATOGA  AND  MORGIANA, 

Come,  banish  all  your  petty  jars, 
And  shout  your  joy  in  loud  huzzas, 
In  honour  of  Columbia's  tars, 

Whose  valour  ne'er  shall  fail  her; 
Let  echo  answer  to  the  strain, 
And  pass  the  tidings  o'er  the  main. 
That  British  pride, 
Which  we  deride, 
Again  is  humbled  on  the  tide, 

By  Freedom's  gallant  sailor. 

©nee  Saratoga  swell'd  the  song, 
As  Britain  will  remember  long, 
Burgoyne,  with  seven  thousand  strong. 

In  fight  could  not  avail  her  $ 
^Tow  Saratoga  on  the  main, 
Has  shown  that  Britain's  claim  is  vain. 
To  rule  the  sea, 
By  nature  free — 
"Tis  what  shall  never,  never  be, 

Says  every   Yankee  sailor. 

This  Saratoga,  you  shall  hear, 
Was  fitted  out  a  privateer, 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S.  443 

Victory   No.  8— Saratoga  and  Morgiana. 

And  mann'd  by  tars  unknown  to  fear, 

From  danger  never  paler  ; 
To  die  or  conquer,  all  agreed ; 
To  nobly  die, 
But  never  fly, 

While  George's  cross  was  waving  high, 
'Twas  like  a  Yankee  sailor. 

They  hoisted  sail,  and  cruis'd  afar, 
To  aid  their  country  in  the  war, 
And  many  a  valiant  British  tar 

Has  reason  to  bewail  her  ; 
They  fought  and  captured  all  they  met; 
While  Britons  vainly  fume  and  fret  $ 
Each  gallant  prize, 
In  safety  lies, 
While  far  to  sea  for  more  she  flies, 

To  earich  a  Yankee  sailor. 

At  length  they  spy  a  worthier  mark^ 
To  try  their  little  gallant  barque — 
Behold,  a  ship  of  war  !  and,  hark  I 

They  arrogantly  hail  her  ! 
The  Saratoga  quick  replies, 
In.  language  that  astounds  the  skies ; 
While  Freedom's  sons 
Still  serve  tfceir 


144  WOODWORTH'S.  Naval, 

Victory  No.  8     Saratoga  and  Morgiana. 

Till  calPd  "  away,"  each  boarder  runs? 
And  each,  a  Yankee  sailor. 

The  foe  has  eighteen  guns,  or  more, 

The  Saratoga  only  four  : 

Away  !  my  lads,  and  board  once  more, 

And  fiercer  still  assail  her. 
Huzza,  huzza,  boys  !  See,  she  strikes  ! 
Now  board  your  prize  without  your  pikes,. 
And  succour  those, 
No  longer  foes, 
Whose  gen'rous  blood  in  duty  flows, 

And  save  a  brother  sailor. 


WOOD  WORTH'S. 


New-  Year  Address  to  the  Patrons  of  "  The  War. 


NEW- YEAR  ADDRESS, 

Written  for  the  Garner  of  a  Weekly  Paper  entitled 
THE  WAR — JANUARY  1,  1813. 

Patrons  !  scowling  Winter  wages 
O'er  our  realms  his  stormy  war  ; 

Back'd  by  Northern  Powers,  he  rages. 
Scattering  tempests  round  his  car. 

j&one  can  stem  his  rude  invasion, 

All  must  to  the  Tyrant  yield  ; 
Spring,  alone,  with  soft  persuasion, 

Can  compel  him  from  the  field. 

Yet,  amid  the  frowns  of  winter, 

Beams  one  lucid  ray  of  joy — 
While  it  animates  your  Printer, 

Bid  it  cheer  the  Printer's  Boy. 

He'll  not  boast  of  rigid  duty, 

Nor  complain  his  task  is  hard, 
While  the  smile  of  Wealth  and  Beauty 

All  his  services  reward. 

'Tis  the  height  of  his  ambition, 

(Laudable  in  age  or  youth) 
That  he  claims  the  great  commission 

Of  a  MESSENGER  OP  TRUTH* 
13 


146  WOODWORTH'S.  Occasional. 

New-Year  Address  to  the  Patrons  of  "  The  War." 

.Free  from  useless  party  squabbles, 

Is  the  humble  sheet  he  brings, 
Unadorird  b}^  fiction's  baubles, 

»Save  when  patriot  Fancy  sings. 

CLIO,  o'er  the  press  presiding, 

From  her  minute-book  selects, 
Truth  from  falsehood  still  dividing^ 

This  she  copies — that  rejects. 

Thus  prepares  a  faithful  history, 
Perfect  in  each  line  and  page, 

Unobscured  by  doubt  or  mystery, 
To  inform  a  future  age. 


-• 


Thus,  exempt  from  faction's  demon,, 

He  has  yet  another  boast, 
That  he  serves  a  race  of  Freemen, 

With  what  Freemen  value  most. 

Now  accept  his  gratuiations, 

That  the  New- Year's  glad  return. 

Finds  us  still  the  first  of  nations, 
Where  the  flame  of  freedom  burns, 

Health,  the  richest  earthly  blessing., 
Wantons  in  the  gelid  gale  ; 

Plenty,  every  board  is  dressing  j 
Genius  and  the  Arts  prevail. 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


New- Year  Address  to  the  Patrons  of  "  The  War." 

PEACE,  alone,  on  ruffled  pinion, 

Flies  from  Freedom's  injured  realm  ; 

WAR  extends  his  rough  dominion, 
Vengeance  nodding  on  his  helm. 

Harshly  sounds  the  trumpet's  clamour, 
While  our  warriors  leap  to  arms  ; 

Beauty  shrinks  in  fearful  tremour, 
Snatching  graces  from  alarms. 

Harsh  to  us  the  martial  clarion 

Who  with  Peace  and  Freedom  blest, 

Bade  the  desert,  drear  and  barren, 
Smile  a  garden  in  the  West. 

Harsh  to  us,  whose  fair  pretensions 
Ne'er  infringed  a  nation's  right, 

Who  have  tamely  borne  aggressions-, 
Rather  than  engage  in  fight. 

But  at  length,  indignant  Justice, 
Bares  her  sabre's  spotless  blade. 

Swears  by  Him  in  whom  our  trust  is;, 
Every  wrong  shall  be  repaid. 

Now  the  horrid  fray  commences, 
BELLA  goads  the  steeds  of  war? 

Death  on  every  side  disperses, 
Spreading  ruin  round  her  c^r. 


J48  WOOD  WORTH'S.  OccasiooaL 

^ew-Year  Address  to  the  Patrons  of  "The  War." 

Hark  !  the  tempest  louder  rages  ! 

See  !  the  Savage  joins  the  strife, 
"With  a  hellish  yell  engages, 

Arm'd  with  hatchet,  fire,  and  knife  .' 

Age,  nor  sex,  is  now  respected, 

Infant,  mother.,  hoary  sire, 
By  the  ruthless  knife  dissected. 

Or  in  flaming  cots,  expire  ! 

Can  the  foeman,  famed  for  honour, 

Britain,  famed  for  social  arts, 
Can  she  brook  this  stain  upon  her, 

Deeds  at  which  a  freeman  starts  ! 

Form  with  tigers  an  alliance  ! 

League  with  prowling  beasts  of  prey  J 
Set  religion  at  defiance  ! 

Fright  humanity   away  ! 

Oh  !  a  day  of  retribution, 

Haughty  Britain  !  is  at  hand, 
When  the  amplest  restitution, 

Freemen's  thunder  shall  command, 

Now,  already,  on  that  ocean 

She  would  rule  with  walls  of  oak, 

Where  her  murderers  gain  promotion. 
She  has  groan'd  beneath  our  stroke.*. 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


\ew-YVar  Address  to  the  Patrons  of  "The  War. 

There  her  haughty  hopes  are  crumbled, 
At  our  Eagle's  flashing  eye 

George's  cross  is  quickly  humbled  — 
Not  a  streamer  floats  on  high. 

How  they  start,  aghast  with  wonder, 

That  a  rival  dare  advance, 
Tempting  Britain's  awful  thunder, 

Which  so  oft  has  crippled  France. 

But  at  length  they  have  discovered 
We  can  surer  vengeance  urge, 

Till  their  ships  with  carnage  covered, 
Float  in  wrecks  upon  the  surge. 

HULL  advanced  —  illusion  faded, 

And  the  GUERRIERE,  streaming  blood. 

Blushing  for  her  flag  degraded, 

Shrunk  beneath  the  crimson'd  flood. 

JOXES,  the  next  in  naval  story, 
Eager  in  the  brilliant  course, 

Pluck'd  a  sprig  from  British  glory  — 
Conquered  with  inferior  force. 

Next,  DECATUR  —  how  the  muses 
Love  to  dwell  upon  his  name  ! 

Next,  DECATUH  nobly  chooses 
British  arrogance  to  tame. 


150  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Occasional 

New- Year  Address  to  the  Patrons  of  "The  War." 

Once  his-  sabre's  blade  reflected 

Lightnings  from  the  Barbary  shore  .5, 

More  than  once  that  blade  directed 
Freedom's  fire  against  the  Moor, 


r 


Now  a  nobler  contest  offers. 
Brighter  ardour  fires  his  soul — 

He  the  dreadful  meeting  proffers. 
Where  the  western  billows  roll.. 

Short,  but  bloody,  was  the  battle— 
Iron  thunders  shake  the  Main — 

Leaden  hail-stones  thickly  rattle, 
Dimpling  all  the  watery  plain. 

Soon  the  crippled  foe  surrenders ; 

Neptune  sees  the  flag  descend, 
And7  amaz'd,  his  Trident  tenders 

To  DECATUR,  Freedom's  friend.. 

Now  COLUMBIA'S  Eagle  hovers 

Where  Britannia's  streamers  play'd. 

There  the  patriot  eye  discovers 
British  injuries  repaid. 

Entering  now  this  great  Emporium. 

Grateful  to  our  gladden'd  eyes, 
See,  the  Jjritish  MACEDONIAN 

Enters  here,  DBCATUR'S  prize  ' 


Patriotic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


New-Year  Address  to  the  1'alrons  of  "  The  War." 

PATRONS  !  when  the  British  Liorr 

Prowl'd  the  plains  where  Freedom  smil'd^ 

'Twas  a  giant,  cased  in  iron, 
Struggling  with  a  little  child. 

Even  then,  the  cause  of  truth, 

Innocence,  and  right,  were  won  — 

$ow,  in  all  the  pride  of  youth, 
Shall  we  now  the  contest  shun  P 

i¥o  !  the  power  of  Britain  ceases, 
Base  corruption  blunts  her  sword^. 

Daily  Freedom's  power  increases, 
Sailors'  rights  shall  be  restored., 

All  the  gloomy  clouds  that  hover 
O'er  the  cheerless  Western  plaitt^ 

Shall  Atlantic  billows  cover, 
Oeean  wash  out  every  stain., 

Be  our  Navy  once  completed-, 

Mann'd  by  Freedom's  gallant  tars^ 

Foes  will  find  their  hopes  defeated, 
And  respect  Columbia's  stars. 

PATRONS  !  may  each  earthly  blessing^ 
Crown'd  with  honourable  Peace  — 

Each  enjoymeiit  worth  possessing, 
Be  your  own  till  life  shall 


152  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Occasional; 

A  News-Carrier's  New-Year  Address,  for  1816. 

May  no  disappointing  barrier 
E'er  your  honest  hopes  oppose, 

So  sincerely  prays  your  Carrier, 
Such  the  grateful  wish  he  owes. 


A  NEWS-CARRIER'S  ADDRESS, 

Presented  to  his  Patrons  on  Neiv-Year  morning,   1816. 

Dear  patrons  !  last  night,  as  the  evening  expired, 
ONE-THOUSAND-EIGHT-HUNDRED-AND-FIFTEEN  retired ; 
A  New  Year  succeeded,  his  banner  unfurPd, 
And  day-light  beheld  him  encircle  the  world. 

Now,  sanction'd  by  custom,  again  we  appear, 
To  wish  our  kind  patrons  a  Happy  New  Year  : 
And  beg — that  our  numbers  'with  patience  be  heard,, 
A  grateful  effusion  for  favours  conferred  : 

For,  cheer'd  by  your  patronage,  bounty  and  smiles^ 
The  vigilant  Carrier  is  pleas'd  in  his  toils ; 
And  cannot  refrain,  on  each  new-coming  yearr 
To  whisper  his  wishes — his  thanks,  in  your  ear. 

It  is  usual,  we  know,  for  each  New-Year**  Address 
That  annually  flows  from  a  Newspaper  press, 
To  furnish  a  record  of  incidents  past, 
And  hail  the  new  year  with  remarks  on  the  last* 


Patriotic*.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


A  News-Carrier's  New-  Year  Address,  for  1816. 

But  custom  can  never  bind  people  of  sense, 
So,  for  once,  if  you  please,  we'll  with  this  one  dispense  5 
While  we  point  you  to  prospects  which  open  in  view, 
And  just  hint  at  the  past  in  a  couplet  or  two. 

When  last  we  addressed  you,  the  clamour  of  arms 
Still  spread  round  our  borders  incessant  alarms  ; 
While  the  rough  eastern  breeze  daily  blew  to  our  coas% 
Additional  aid  to  the  red-coated  host, 

But  armies,  nor  navies,  nor  engines  of  fate, 
Gould  dampen  our  hopes,  nor  our  courage  abate  5 
We  rose  as  we  felt  every  pressure  increase, 
Determined  to  conquer  —  an  hon'rable  peace. 

The  blood  of  our  forefathers  cried  from  their  graves  — 
*'  We  died  for  your  freedom  —  Sons  !  scorn  to  be  slaves  ! 
••*•'  The  blessings  we  gave  you,  resolve  to  maintain  — 
w  A  RIGHT  once  relinquish  'd,  you'll  never  regain^ 

<•  What  tho'  you  contend  for  your  dearly-bought  rights, 
"  With  tyrants  and  wretches  whom  carriage  delights  ; 
i>;  Whose  haughty  ambition  lays  claim  to  the  sea, 
"-  And  wars  but  with  those  who  have  souls  to  be  free  : 

^  What  tho?  some  disasters  have  darkened  the  sceney 

"  And  demons  of  faction  in  council  convene  5 

u  Who  openly  threaten  your  cause  to  oppose, 

%  Embarrass  your  rulers,,  and  side  with  your  foes  : 


154  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Occasional, 

A  News-Carrier's  New- Year  Address,  for  1816. 

"  Yet,  who  droops  at  misfortune — desponds  at  defeat, 
Ci  Or  shrinks  at  disaster,  though  seven  times  beat, 
4'*  Whose  ardour  can  falter,  whose  purpose  can  pause.. 
w  Distrusts  either  Heaven,  himself,  or  his  cause. 

"  Your  infantile  NAVY,  on  ocean  and  lake, 
"  Has  prompted  your  pa?ans  of  triumph  to  wake  j 
"  And  the  halo  of  glory  which  circles  each  head, 
M  Shall  yet  to  the  brows  of  your  army  be  spread* 

"  To  the  field,  then,  with  ardour — on  Heaven  relyy 
"  The  tempest  of  war  on  invaders  let  fly  ; 
"  The  breasts  of  true  freemen  a  rampart  can  formf 
^  That  tyrants  will  find  it  destruction  to  storm." 

We  heard — and  the  plough  in  the  furrow  was  staid, 
Each  art  was  relinquish  "d  for  musket  and  spade  ; 
The  pipe  of  the  swain  in  the  valley  was  still, 
While  the  bugle  rung  loud  from  each  fortified  hill. 

The  cause  of  humanity,  freedom  and  truth, 
Enkindled  a  flame  in  the  breast  of  each  youth, 
Which,  fann'd  by  the  air  that  our  freemen  respire., 
Soon  burst  on  the  foe  in  a  deluge  of  fire. 

It  kindles  !  it  spreads  !  as  approaches  the  storm — 
And  pulses  long  fridd  beat  rapid  and  warm  ; 
The  dim  eye  of  age  former  lustre  resumes, 
And  snow-circled  temples  bear  helmet  and  plumes'. 


Patriotic.  WOODWORTH'S. 


A  iNews-Carrier's  New-Year  Address,  for  1816. 

The  ardour  increases—  bright  flashes  the  fire, 
Our  foes,  in  amazement,  behold  it  aspire  ; 
View  armies  assemble,  inspired  by  its  glow, 
And  feel  the  just  vengeance  it  prompts  to  bestow. 

They  felt  it  at  Chippewa,  Bridgewater,  York, 
And  at  Plattsburgh  received  Yankee  pay  for  their  work, 
Where  untutored  freemen  forc'd  veterans  to  yield, 
Or  shun  their  destruction  by  flying  the  field. 

They  felt  it  at  Orleans,  where  Jacksoirs  bright  sword 
Directed  the  deluge  of  death  which  we  poured  ; 
The  conquerors  of  France,  by  their  rashness  involved. 
Saw  the  cataract  burst,  and  their  legions  dissolved. 

They  felt  it,  whenever  in  contact  we  came, 
With  arms,  ammunition,  and  numbers  the  same  : 
And  never  have  freemen  deserted  the  plain, 
Till  numbers  have  rendered  their  bravery  vain, 

They  felt  it—  and  lo  !  the  delusion  was  gone, 
Proud  Britain  relinquish'd  her  Sine  qua  non  ; 
Acknowledged  our  prowess—  the  contest  gave  orer9 
And  the  olive  was  twined  with  the  laurels  we  wore,- 

The  turbaivd  Barbarians  next  we  chastise, 
Astounding  their  Dens  and  their  Knights  with  surprise  ^ 
Dccatur,  like  Caesar,  makes  summary  work  ; 
To  a  broadside  or  two  strikes  the  turbulent  Turk. 


WOODWORTH'b.  Occasion^ 


A.  News-Carrier's  New-Year  Address,  for  1816. 

In  battle-array,  then,  our  squadron  appears, 
Under  valiant  Decatur,  in  front  of  Algiers  5 
Who  dictates  a  peace  on  his  own  quarter-deck, 
Where  the  Dey  has  to  sign  it,  or  forfeit  his  neck, 

Now  Commerce  revives,  and  her  hundred  wheels  rolL 
Our  canvas  is  spread  from  equator  to  pole  5 
Antipodes  gaze  on  our  banner  unfurPd, 
For  the  course  of  our  eagle  shall  girdle  the  world. 

The  genius  of  plenty  her  office  resumes, 

The  treasures  of  India  —  Arabia's  perfumes, 

With  each  gem  and  each  fruit  that  the  world  can  produwt. 

Her  horn  pours  around  for  our  pleasure  or  use. 

The  boundaries  of  Neptune's  tempestuous  domain^ 
Our  spirit  of  enterprise  shall  not  restrain; 
Nor  forests  retard  it,  nor  mountains  affright, 
For  Hudson  and  Erie  their  \vaves  shall  unite, 

The  Arts  shall  increase  and  refinement  extend, 
New  graces  to  beauty  shall  piety  lend  ; 
The  demon  of  selfishness  shrink  to  his  hole, 
And  the  form  of  each  action  have  USE  for  its  soifL 

Here  Freedom  shall  flourish,  a  star  in  the  west  5 
The  dove  and  the  eagle  together  shall  rest  ; 
Fair  Science,  delighted,  her  portals  unfold, 
And  Genius  soar  upward  on  pinions  of  gold* 


WOODWORTH'S. 


157 


A  i\ft\vs-Carrier's  New- Year  Address,  for  1816. 

Though  bloody  AMBITION,  with  ENVY  and  HATE, 
Have  sunk  hapless  France  to  a  vassalage  state  ; 
The  strand  where  she  founderd  our  policy  shuns, 
While  we  take  to  our  bosom  her  emigrant  sons. 

The  names  of  our  heroes,  recorded  by  Fame, 
Shall  glow  in  her  tablets  in  letters  of  flame ; 
And  patriots,  and  sages,  and  bards  yet  unborn, 
With  splendour  as  brilliant  the  page  shall  adorn. 

Our  glory  a  lustre  untarnished  displays, 
Yet  soon  it  may  dazzle  with  still  brighter  rays  ; 
Virtue,  talents,  and  firmness,  combined,  may  appear., 
New- York  may  yet  furnish  our  state  charioteer. 

Dear  Patrons,  this  honest  effusion  excuse, 
You  well  may  be  weary,  for  so  is  our  muse ; 
Then  accept  our  best  wishes,  believe  them  sincere, 
And  long  may  we  greet  you  with  "  Happy  New-Year. 


14 


158  WOODWORTH'S.  Local  and 

A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

NEW- YEAR  ADDRESS, 

Written  for  the  Carrier  of  the  Columbian — 1811. 

Patrons,  the  moon,  whose  silver  cresent  dress'd 
At  ten  last  night,  the  star-bespangled  west, 
Has  fifteen  times  her  orbit's  path-way  run, 
And  travelled  with  us  once  around  the  sun, 
Since  first  your  Carrier,  ardent  in  the  toil, 
Became  a  satellite  of  favour's  smile, 
And,  with  your  evening  mental  banquet  graced, 
Has  faithful  still  his  humble  orbit  traced. 
Blest  with  your  bounty  ere  he  well  begun, 
His  daily  curcuit  he  has  cheerful  run ; 
Nor  changes  now,  but  to  renew  the  year, 
And  meet  the  sunshine  of  your  favour  here. 

Patrons,  fair  Freedom  saw  her  children  blest 
With  virtue,  peace,  security  and  rest ; 
Her  foes  reduced  in  numbers,  means  and  power, 
While  notes  of  pleasure  vocalized  h^r  bower, 
From  Plenty 's  horn  rich  fruits  adorn 'd  her  plain, 
Where  Agriculture  led  her  smiling  train  ; 
The  Arts,  supported  by  Industry's  hand, 
Their  various  blessings  scattered  o'er  the  land ; 
And  daring  Commerce,  mid  her  injuries  bold, 
Reclined  on  Luxury's  lap,  bedeck'd  with  gold. 


Occasional.  WOODWORTH'S.  159 

A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

She  saw,  and  smiled.    But  though  her  foe,  subdued, 
In  adamantine  fetters  pov/erless  stood, 
Yet,  as  he  breathed  his  mad  envenomed  ire, 
While  his  fierce  eye-balls  shot  malignant  fire, 
An  "  unclean  spirit"  on  the  vapour  rode, 
(As  Satan  rose  from  hell's  accurst  abode) 
Its  form,  disgusting  to  the  loathing  view, 
The  goddess  saw,  and  Faction- s  demon  knew; 
On  his  horn'd  head  a  horrid  helm  he  wore, 
With  dragon-crest,  and  <  Schism7  stampt  before, 
Two  writhing  serpents  his  cadueceus  twined, 
With  forked  tongues,  and  scaly  trails  behind ; 
His  skinny  pinions  sable  fibres  framed, 
And  round  his  form  a  sulphurous  vapour  flamed. 

The  fiend  advanced,  conceal' d  from  mortal  view, 
Though  Freedom  saw,  and  well  his  errand  knew ; 
Well  knew  his  power,  his  will,  and  subtle  wiles, 
Might  lure  the  unsuspecting  to  his  toils; 
And,  with  a  sigh,  beheld  his  venom'd  breath 
Taint  her  pure  air  with  pestilence  and  death ; 
The  baneful  gas,  unconsciously  inspired, 
Her  sons  with  restless  disaffection  fired  ; 
While  through  their  ranks  the  spreading  mania  run, 
.The  goddess  wept,  and  thought  her  cause  undone. 

At  this  dread  crisis,  pitying  Pallas  came, 
To  save  the  mourner,  and  protect  her  fame ; 


160  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Local  and 

A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

A  burnish'd  mail  and  nodding  plume  she  wore, 
And  "  The  Columbian"  was  the  shield  she  bore ; 
Form'd,  like  the  fabled  vEgis,  to  oppose 
And  blunt  the  arrows  of  a  host  of  foes. 
Faction  in  vain  opposed  his  threatening  fate  ; 
The  ransomed  victims  of  the  demon's  hate, 
Restored  to  reason,  rallied  round  the  shield, 
And  disaffection  hastened  from  the  field. 


Patrons,  excuse  this  allegoric  strain, 
Nor  think  your  carrier  arrogant  or  vain ; 
Proud  of  his  task,  renewing  with  the  year, 
He  knows  the  subject  worthy  of  your  ear ; 
Else  why  encouraged  by  your  liberal  aid, 
Or  why  the  carrier  by  its  patrons  paid  ? 
The  blooming  plant  your  patronage  sustains, 
Must  sure  be  worthy  of  his  humble  strains. 

Since  the  "  Columbian,"  by  your  favour  reard. 
In  Freedom's  cause  her  champion  first  appeared, 
What  various  dainties  have  its  columns  graced, 
In  rich  profusion  for  the  board  of  taste ! 
The  hungry  quidnunc,  found  the  ready  dish, 
The  politician,  all  his  heart  could  wish  ; 
The  moralist,  supplied  with  counsel  sage,  ;  „ 

The  scholar,  treasures  from  the  classic  page  : 


Occasional.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

Historians,  faithful  sketches  of  the  times, 
And  Virtuosi,  food  from  distant  climes  ; 
Commerce  and  Arts  obtain'd  a  journal  here, 
To  mark  their  progress  through  the  prosperous  year  ; 
And  Agriculture  saw  her  labours  crown'd, 
Improved  by  hints  which  here  a  record  found  ; 
Here  Humours  friends  have  seen  the  lash  applied, 
By  Satire's  hand,  to  folly,  vice  and  pride  ; 
The  Muses'  votaries,  too,  might  here  admire, 
The  tuneful  warblings  of  a  western  lyre  ; 
And  lovers  read  and  bless  the  happy  pair 
In  Hymen's  list,  and  wish  their  signets  there  ; 
While  Fate's  black  catalogue  this  lesson  taught, 
That  joy  is  transient  —  human  pleasure  short. 

Patrons,  permit  your  carrier  here  to  name 
The  worthiest  champions  which  the  cause  can  claim, 
Whose  fertile  genius  has  enrich'd  our  sheet, 
In  columns  breathing  patriotic  heat  ; 
Whose  fruitful  talents  you  have  most  admired, 
While  with  their  glowing  sentiments  inspired. 
First,  manly  Stark  appeared  upon  the  field 
The  teeming  quill  in  Freedom's  cause  to  wield  ; 
Whose  patriot  fervor  swell'd  the  breathing  page, 
Commanding  plaudits  from  the  listening  age. 
Next  in  the  list,  ingenious  Rattle  rose, 
To  scourge  apostates,  and  their  crimes  expose  5 
14* 


162  WOODWORTH'S.  Local  and 

A   ]\Tews-C<.t'ric.i's   Address,  for  January   1,  1811. 

Whose  humorous  pen  portrayed  luxuriant  thought. 
Nor  secure!  to  scan  the  moral  which  it  taught. 
Franklin  attended  in  the  veteran  train, 
His  thoughts  the  abstract  of  a  patriot's  brain  ; 
And  BunherhiU,  whose  fervid  numbers  swell'd 
As  when  his  thunders  Freedom's  foes  repell'd  : 
While  ever  and  anon,  each  pause  between, 
The  gentle  Laura  breathed  a  strain  serene. 
Cato,  again,  the  worth  of  freedom  showed ; 
Timolien's  thoughts  in  easy  periods  flowed ; 
And  Juvenis  with  serious  Mercer  join'd, 
To  paint  the  blackness  of  a  traitor's  mind. 
Junius  described  corrupted  Albion's  state ; 
Green  bade  us  shun  the  Dane's  unhappy  fate  j 
While  junior  Adams,  with  a  critic's  lore, 
To  shreds  a  pompous  declamation  tore. 
Norfolciencis,  next  enrich'd  the  page, 
With  style  unrivall'd,  erudite  and  sage ; 
And,  in  the  life  of  British  Windham,  taught 
To  hate  the  wretch  whom  regal  gold  had  bought. 
Humanitus,  in  gentle  pity's  cause, 
Condemn'd  the  errors  of  oppressive  laws  ; 
And  feeling  Howard  still  the  theme  prolongs, 
And  ably  paints  the  captive  debtor's  wrongs. 
Gay  Rigmarole,  with  humour,  all  his  own, 
With  dexterous  hand  has  satire's  weapon  thrown ; 


Occasional.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  163 

A   News-Carrier's  Ad'.liess.   for  January   1,  1811. 


And  while  with  justice  all  admire  his  art, 

Law-makers  wince,  and  tingle  with  the  smart. 

Philanthrope,  to  start  a  livelier  game, 

At  modern  female-fashion  took  his  aim  ; 

While  hundreds  round  him  from  their  ambush  spring, 

As  folly  flies,  to  shoot  her  on  the  wing. 

Meantime  a  Hamlet  and  a  Tliespis'  wage 

Unequal  war  with  a  degenerate  stage ; 

Endeavouring  still  to  call  true  merit  forth, 

And  place  the  chaplet  on  the  brow  of  worth. 

To  these  be  added,  not  the  least  in  fame, 

Columns  of  treasure  which  the  muse  might  name, 

Pregnant  with  genius,  energy  and  truth, 

Of  age  the  wisdom,  and  the  fire  of  youth  : 

The  muse  of  Selim  was  not  wooed  in  vain  j 

A  lovely  minstrel  echoed  back  the  strain, 

Whose  tuneful  numbers  melted  on  the  ear. 

And  who,  but  wish'd  Zoraydcfs  lyre  to  hear  ? 

"  The  Rallying  Point"  a  fertile  pen  displayed, 

With  Wisdom's  form  in  Humour's  garb  array 7d, 

And  Hosack's  garden  oft  has  furnish'd,  too, 

Some  fragrant  flowers  of  no  inferior  hue. 

''  The  Diarrhodon"  you  have  heard  expose 

The  latent  beauties  of  a  modern  Rose, 

And  smiled  to  see  the  lively  writer  roast 

The  doughty  champion  of  the  Morning  Post. 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Local  and 


A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  .'anuary   I,  1811. 

Through  the  Columbian  you  were  first  infornrd, 
O'er  bleeding  Spain,  what  martial  myriads  swarai'd, 
While  Gallia's  banner,  bathed  in  human  gore, 
Floated  unfurl'd  along  the  sanguine  shore. 
How  Wellington  his  thunders  hurl'd  on  France, 
Announcing  still  a  retrograde  advance  ; 
Till  the  poor  Frenchmen,  hemmM  by  foes  and  bog, 
Starved  in  their  ranks  for  want  of  soup  and  frog  5 
How  Bona  changed  the  partner  of  his  bed, 
And  with  the  sweetest  flower  of  Austria  wed  ; 
While  his  ex-empress,  with  submissive  grace, 
Retired  to  give  the  lovely  stranger  place. 
How  Francis  Burdett  braved  despotic  power, 
While  tyranny  condemned  him  to  the  tower  ; 
How  Cobbett's  pen  incensed  the  foes  of  truth, 
Who  fed  the  viper  till  they  felt  his  tooth. 
Indignant,  here  the  tale  you  have  perused 
Of  Freedom's  flag  a  second  time  abused, 
When  the  Moselle,  beneath  our  eagle's  eye, 
Dared  bid  her  thunders  on  the  Vixen  fly. 

While  the  great  combat  of  election  reign'd, 
The  right  of  suffrage  here  you  saw  maintained  ; 
Till  heaven-born  truth,  which  vice  in  vain  assails, 
Bid  twice  three  thousand  freemen  turn  the  scales. 

Through  the  Columbian,  too,  you  might  admire, 
What  literary  minds  to  fame  aspire. 


Occasional.  WOODWORTH'S.  165 

A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

What  fruits  of  genius  spring  from  Freedom's  soil, 
And  what  rewards  attend  their  ardent  toil. 
Nor  is  our  state,  upon  the  list  of  fame, 
In  literature  the  least  or  humblest vname. 
Spaford  pursues  a  bold  and  ardent  course, 
With  pen  and  talents  not  suppass'd  by  Morse ; 
M'Creery  bids  the  harp  of  Erin  breathe, 
And  round  his  temples  binds  the  verdant  wreath  5 
And  Woody  with  philosophic  reasoning  shows 
From  what  mysterious  cause  the  ocean  flows. 
Immortal  Fraser's  wondei -working  quill 
Can  every  breast  with  admiration  fill ; 
With  laurels  crown 'd,  'the  sweet  dramatic  muse, 
A  second  Shakspear  in   her  T\tinshul  views, 
Whose  lofty  lyre,  disdaining  meaner  notes, 
Paints  to  the  life  a — "  Bard  in  petticoats." 
Searson  and  Grotecloss,  with  magic  lays, 
To  rapture's  tone  the  cords  of  feeling  raise ; 
Fair  Ripley  too,  at  sinners  shakes  the  head, 
Seizes  her  pen,  and  writes  the  rascals  dead. 

Invention's  progress,  too,  has  here  been  traced, 
And  all  improvements  that  our  clime  have  graced. 
Ingenius  Hall,  with  true  mechanic  lore, 
Has  taught  an  augur  without  hands  to  bore  j 
While  Morneveck  the  higher  merit  claims 
To  guard  our  roofs  from  desolating  flames ; 


166  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Local  and 

A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

Harlem  disdain'd  the  magnet's  varying  power. 
And  made  the  plane  which  marks  the  changing  hour, 
Its  use  supply — while  the  inventive  Day 
Bestowed  new  powers  on  Winter's  gliding  sleigh. 
But  most  might  you  admire  the  wonderous  power. 
That  knits  a  pair  of  stockings  in  an  hour  ; 
And  shrewdly  think,  as  you  these  wonders  read, 
That  life  will  shortly  no  exertions  need — 
That  some  invention,  o'er  the  whole  to  leap, 
Will  make  us  food,  and  feed  us  while  we  sleep. 

Patrons,  how  anxious  have  you  told  the  clock, 
Waiting  impatient  for  your  carrier's  knock ! 
Eager  to  seize  this  "  map  of  husy  life," 
"  Its  fluctuations,'"7  harmonies,  and  strife  5 
To  sit  at  ease,  surveying,  as  it  turns 
Beneath  your  view,  "  the  globe  and  its  concerns  ;?J 
Thus  "  through  the  loop-holes  of  retreat"  to  scan 
The  busy  scene  and  all  the  works  of  man. 
The  well-known-welcome  signal  sounds  at  last, 
^  Now  stir  the  fire  and  close  the  shutters  fast, 
Let  down  the  curtains,  wheel  the  sofa  round," 
The  sheet  is  open,  and  the  column  found  : 
"  The  grand  debate"  now  meets  your  eager  eye, 
"  The  popular  harangue,  the  tart  reply, 
The  logic,  and  the  wisdom,  and  the  wit," 
The  agile  parry  and  the  dexterous  hit : 


Occasional.  WOODWORTH'S. 


A  News-Carrier's  Address,  to;    JuiMinry   I,  1811. 

The  pestilence,  which  human  science  mocks, 
li  Houses  in  ashes,  and  the  fall  of  stocks. 
Births,  deaths  and  marriages,77  marine  events,, 
Ships  spoke,  arrived,  or  just  departing  hence. 
Soft  eloquence  here  lubricates  the  page, 
There  "  cataracts  of  declamation'"'  rage  ; 
While  columns  more  the  ins  and  outs  expose, 
"  With  many  descants  on  a  nation's  woes.77 
Nor  stop  you  here,  for  next,  before  your  eyes, 
"  Forests  of  strange  but  gay  confusion'7  rise  : 
Rare  sales  at  Auction  —  Fashions  just  come  o7er; 
Comoglio's  concert  —  Waiters  true  lucky  store; 
Cooke's  benefit  —  foot,  horse,  or  water  race  ; 
Vrrarne7s  Register  —  Wet  Nurses  out  of  place  ; 
Diseases  cured  —  Houses  to  sell  or  let  ; 
"  Whereas  a  libel"—"  Ran  away  in  debt  ;" 
Museums,  sermons,  celebration  feasts, 
Phantasmagories,  strange  and  monstrous  beasts. 
In  short  one  line  the  catalogue  completes  — 
i  Heaven  earth  and  ocean,  plundered  of  their  sweets.7 

With  all  these  various  dainties  here  displayed 
Have  you  been  furnish'd'by  your  carriers  aid; 
Besides  a  numerous  catalogue  of  tales, 
Home-manufactured,  or  received  by  mails  ; 
Of  shipwrecks,  murders,  hurricanes  and  rains, 
Of  mountain-torrents  deluging  our  plains  ; 


168  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Local  and 

A  News-Carrier's  Address,  for  January  1,  1811. 

Of  men  who  brave  eternity's  dread  brink, 
And  drinking  die,  and  even  when  dying  drink ; 
And  one,  whom  death  had  vanquished  in  the  strife, 
By  drinking  brandy  soon  restored  to  life ; 
Of  suicides,  and  accidents,  and  fires, 
And  all,  in  short,  curiosity  requires. 


Since  such  your  carrier's  service,  sure  he  may 
His  patrons  greet  without  offence  to-day  ; 
May  wish  them  every  happiness  on  earth, 
Obtained  by  wealth,  or  merited  by  worth. 
He  will  not  boast  of  toils  he  may  sustain, 
Through  heat  and  cold,  in  tempests,  snows,  or  rain  ; 
He  will  not.  plead  his  poverty,  nor  tell, 
That,  faithful  to  his  trust,  he  served  you" well ; 
But,  while  the  sycophantic  suppliant  starves, 
He,  independent  as  the  press  he  serves, 
To  facts  self-evident  directs  your  view, 
And  modestly  refers  the  rest  to  you. 


Occasional.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Tlie  First  Lesson  of  Love  —  a  Bagatelle. 


FIRST  LESSON  OF  LOVE. 

In  vain  I  breathed  the  tender  sigh 

At  lovely  Mary's  feet  ; 
My  soul,  which  glisten'd  in  my  eye, 

No  kindred  ray  could  meet. 
With  cold  indifference  she  replied  — 

<6  My  heart  you  do  not  move  j 
"  And  I  will  never  be  a  bride 

«  Till  I  have  learn'd  to  love." 

il  O  then,  (I  cried)  my  pupil  be, 

a  Thy  breast  no  longer  steel  5 
"  Sure,  I  can  teach,  sweet  girl,  to  thee, 

"  The  lesson  which  I  feel  /" 
t(  No,  Selim  —  you  have  tried  it  long, 

"  And  yet  I  don't  improve  ; 
"  Fm  dull  —  or  you  instruct  me  wrong  — 

"  I  have  not  learn'd  to  love." 

I  left  her  hopeless  —  but  at  eve 

We  met,  when  she  exclainvd  — 
'"  Now,  Selim  —  noiv  my  heart  receive, 

"  With  love  for  you  inflamed  !" 
Surprised,  delighted,  soon  I  guess'd 

What  thus  the  fair  could  move  — 
My  hair  had  been  by  Huggins  dress'd, 

She  saw  —  and  learn'd  to  love. 
15 


170  WOODWORTH'S.  Local  and 

The  Second  Lesson  of  Love — a  Bagatelle. 

SECOND  LESSON  OF  LOVE. 

OR    THE 

CHARM  IRRESISTIBLE. 

*•  No,  friendship,  dear  Julia,  is  all  I  can  proffer, 
"  My  love  is  another's,  who  loves  me  in  turn ; 

"  Accept  my  esteem — it  is  all  I  can  offer, 

"  The  flame  of  affection  for  Mary  must  burn. 

Ci  Then  cease,  lovely  girl,  to  exhibit  those  graces, 
"  Nor  tempt  me  from  constancy,  honour  and  truth  5 

"  For  I  never  will  yield  to  love's  hallowed  embraces, 
"  Till  the  arms  of  my  Mary  receive  her  fond  youth. 

(*  I  pity  the  sorrow  that  "waits  tliee  at  parting, 

"  And  which,  for  a  season,  may  rob  thee  of  rest ; 

"  But  time  will  soon  sooth  the  sad  heart  I  leave  smarting, 
"  And  the  sweet  dove  of  peace  shall  revisit  her  nest. 

"  You  tell  me  my  glances  have  nourished  your  passion, 
"  And  gilded  with  hope  the  sweet  prospect  of  bliss  5 

"  Dear  artless  enchantress  !  untutord  by  fashion  ! 
"  Your  beauty  demanded  a  homage  like  this. 

"  Had  I  known  you  ere  this  constant  heart  was  my  Mary's 
"  It  might  have  been  Julia's,  and  both  have  been  blest ; 

"  But  now  'tis  too  late,  for  if  ever  it  varies, 

^  May  my  image  for  ever  be  banish'd  her  breast." 


Occasional.  WOODWORTH'S. 


The  Second  Lesson  of  Love  —  a  Baatelle. 


'"Twas  thus  to  fair  Julia  I  modestly  pleaded, 

Nor  dared  meet  the  glance  of  her  love-beaming  eye  ; 

Pcrplex'd  by  the  subject,  my  tongue  was  impeded, 
And  I  sat  sunk  in  silence,  till  roused  by  her  sigh. 

Then  our  eyes  met  by  instinct — but,  ah  !  the  transgression 
My  Mary  for  ever  is  doom'd  to  deplore  ! 

For,  Oh  !  such  a  sweet  and  bewitching  expression, 
Ne'er  beam'd  from  the  face  of  a  mortal  before. 

I  flew  to  her  arms,  with  this  fond  exclamation, 

"  Dear  Julia  !  I'm  thine  !  and  we  never  will  part  ! 

'•'  But  explain,  my  sweet  angel  !  this  new  fascination, 
"  Say,  whence  this  new  charm  that  has  vanquished  my 
heart  ?» 

She  replied,  with  a  smile  that  enraptured  my  bosom, 
"  The  charms  which  you  now  irresistible  own, 

"  Are  the  gift  of  DESBORUS,  whose  magic  renews  ?em, 
"  His  art  can  create  and  preserve  them  alone.7' 

Protect,  then,  this  artist,  ye  beaux,  ?tis  your  duty ; 

Ye  belles,  let  DESBORUS  your  patronage  prove  5 
"Tis  his  to  new  polish  the  armour  of  beauty, 

The  ringlets  he  weaves  are  the  meshes  of  love. 


J72  WOODWORTH'S.  Local  and 

The  Third  Lesson  of  Love — a  Bagatelle. 

THIRD  LESSON  OF  LOVE  ; 

OR   THE 
WAY  TO  KEEP  HIM. 

Ye  fair,  who  complain  of  neglect  in  your  spouses^ 
Arid  mourn  the  extinction  of  love  in  their  hearts^ 

My  recipe  con — 'tis  the  charm  which  arouses 

The  flame  that  may  slumber,  but  seldom  departs. 

Eliza  once  shone  the  perfection  of  beauty, 
The  mirror  of  fashion,  the  phoenix  of  taste, 

When  Edwin,  invited  by  love  and  by  duty, 
Pray'd  Hymen  to  favour  an  ardour  so  chaste, 

He  loved  her — but  long  ere  he  whisper'd  his  passion, 

Affection  for  him  taught  Eliza  to  sigh ; 
And  arm'd  with  attractions  by  beauty  and  fashion, 

Her  conquest  she  read  in  the  glance  of  his  eye. 

Their  nuptials  were  sweeten'd  with  love's  purest  rap 
ture  : 

But  exquisite  pleasure  the  soonest  expires  ; 
Eliza  forgot  'twas  a  trifle  to  capture, 

Compared  with  the  art  which  retaining  requires. 


Occasional.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  173 

The  Third  Lesson  of  Love— a  Bagatelle. 

Secure  of  her  prize,  she  neglected  to  cherish 

The  charms  which  subdued  him,  and  gilded  his  chain  ; 

And  carelessly  suffered  attractions  to  perish, 
The  guard  and  the  glory  of  beauty's  domain. 

The  moments  devoted  to  love  and  caresses, 

Were  gradually  shorten' d — for  Edwin  would  roam  ; 

To  his  heart  with  less  ardour  her  bosom  he  presses — 
His  paradise  seenrd  any  where  but  at  home. 

Astonished  and  grieved  at  this  wane  of  attention, 
With  tears  and  intreaties  she  sought  for  the  cause, 

And  task'd,  but  in  vain,  her  once  ready  invention, 
To  find  out  the  reason,  if  any  there  was. 

Till  prompted  by  pride,  to  awaken  his  passion, 
She  studied  her  once-hoasted  charms  to  improve, 

Applied  to  Desborus,  field-marshal  of  fashion, 
And  begg'd  a  supply  of  the  weapons  of  love. 

With  a  bow  full  of  grace,  and  a  smile  that  is  nature's^ 
Desborus  began  all  his  genius  to  show, 

When  heart-slayers,  beau-killers.,  annihilatorsf 

Waved  lightly  around  her  smooth  forehead  of  snow. 


Different  description  of  ringlets,  so  called. 
15* 


174  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Local  and 

The  Third  Lesson  of  Love— a  Bagatelle. 

As  clouds  round  the  sun  in  bright  glory  descending, 
Diffuse  the  rich  radiance  in  rose-coloured  streaks ; 

So  each  curl    (while  her  eyes  their  new  lustre  were 

lending) 
Reflected  the  blushes  of  light  on  her  cheeks. 


And  her  portals  of  breath,  with  their  pearls  studded 

round, 
Lately  dim  from   neglect,  now  new  polish'd  were 

seen  ; 

And  oft  as  they  oped  to  her  voice's  sweet  sound, 
A  thousand  young  cupids  were  peeping  between. 

Hymen's  lamp  was  rekindled,  her  Edwin  grew  kind, 
More  constancy  never  was  shown  by  the  dove  5 

At  the  conjugal  chain  he  no  longer  repined, 

Since  HUGGINS  entwined  it  with  garlands  of  love. 


Occasional.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Cupid's  Lamentation  —  a  Bagatelle. 


CUPID'S  LAMENTATION, 

OR    THE 

PUFF  ALLEGORICAL. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  enamell'd  with  flowers, 
Fair  Venus  reclined  in  a  myrtle  alcove  5 

Her  doves  were  unyoked,  and  the  wild-woven  bowers 
Were  vocal  with  strains  to  the  goddess  of  love  : 

When  soaring  on  high  o'er  the  city's  gay  throng, 
Her  son  met  her  view,  who  approach'd  her  retreat  j 

On  gossamer  pinion  he  floated  along, 

And  alighted  mid  roses  that  bloom'd  at  her  feet. 

<:  O  Cupid  !  (she  cried)  what  occasions  this  grief  ? 

"  And  where  is  thy  quiver,  thy  bow,  and  thy  darts  ?" 
u  All  gone,  dear  mama  !  O  a  sad  wicked  thief 

"  Has  ruin'd  thy  son"  —  sobb'd  the  ruler  of  hearts. 

u  I  left  you,  but  lately,  to  sport  in  the  town, 

"  Where,  mother,  you  promised  me  plenty  of  game  ,; 

"  But  though  many  I  started,  not  one  I  run  down, 
"  And  Hymen,  for  me,  may  extinguish  his  flame. 

"  I  peep'd  in  a  shop,  where  a  form  met  my  view 
66  Whose  beauty  surpassed  that  of  mortals  by  far  .5 

'•'  So  lovely,  so  fair,  that  I  thought  it  was  you, 
ef  And  entered  to  kiss  and  salute  my  mama. 


176  WOODWORTH'S.  Local  anil 

Cupid's  Lamentation — a  Bagatelle. 

"  But  an  impudent  mortal,  who  played  with  her  hair, 
"  Which  wanton" d  in  ringlets  on  forehead  of  snow  ; 

"  One  lovely  lock  opened,  and  slyly  hid  there 
"  My  ruby-tipp'd  arrows  and  dear  little  bow. 

"  In  vain  I  implored — he  saw  my  tears  flow, 
"  And  tauntingly  told  me  my  prowess  was  o'er, 

"  When  who  should  appear,  but  a  gay  little  beau, 
"  Whom  often  in  vain  I  had  shot  at  before. 

*'<  The  moment  his  eye  met  a  glance  of  the  fair, 
"  His  bosom  beat  quickly  with  rapturous  bound, 

•'  When  one  of  my  arrows  flew  swift  from  her  hair, 
"  And  entered  that  breast  which  I  never  could  wound. 

"'  Thus,  thus,  my  dear  mother,  we  both  are  undone, 
i(  For  mortals  no  more  will  solicit  our  care  , 

"  This  thief  gives  each  ringlet,  the  power  of  your  son, 
"  And  his  art  makes  a  Venus  of  each  earthly  fair." 

"  Where  lives  the  usurper  ?"  with  anger  she  cried, 
"  Who  dares  on  a  mortal  my  beauties  display  ?" 

"  In  yonder  great  city" — the  urchin  replied — 

"  His  name  they  call  Huggins,  he  lives  in  Broadway."' 


Occasional.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  177 

The  Old  Maid's  Complaint— a  Bagatelle. 

THE  OLD  MAID'S  COMPLAINT, 

OR    THE 
PUFF  POSITIVE. 

IVe  seen  the  blushing  garden  drest 

In  all  the  boasted  pride  of  art ; 
With  nature's  gayest  beauties  blest, 

Combined  to  captivate  the  heart. 

IVe  seen  the  florist's  skill  employ'd 
The  chosen  favourite  plants  to  rear. 

Screen  their  sweet  forms,  when  storms  annoy'd, 
And  guard  them  from  each  danger  near. 

And  I  have  seen  a  lonely  flower, 

Neglected  by  the  florist's  care, 
Exposed  to  all  the  blasting  power 

Of  tempests,  frosts,  and  wintry  air. 

Such  is  our  lot — condemn'd  to  prove 

The  worst  malignity  of  fate, 
Estranged  from  the  delights  of  love, 

Exposed  to  ridicule  and  hate. 


178  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Comic. 

The  Whiskers — first  published  in  the  Complete  Coiffeur. 

But,  ah  !  in  vain  we  still  assign, 

To  Heaven  or  Fate,  the  cruel  cause ; 

It  springs  not  from  the  will  divine. 
And  chance  denies  it  in  her  laws. 


When  first  we  bloom'd,  no  magic  art 

The  charms  which  nature  gave  improved  : 

But  now  Desborus  can  impart 

Charms  so  bewitching,  all  are  loved. 


THE  WHISKERS. 

A  TALE. 

The  kings,  who  rule  mankind  with  haughty  sway, 
The  prouder  Pope  whom  even  kings  obey — 
Love,  at  whose  shrine  both  popes  and  monarchs  fall. 
And  e'en  self-interest,  that  controls  them  all — 
Possess  a  petty  power,  when  all  combined, 
Compared  with  Fashion's  influence  on  mankind ; 
For  Love  itself  will  oft  to  Fashion  bow, 
The  following  story  will  comince  you  how: 

A  Petit  Maitre  wooed  a  fair, 
Of  virtue,  wealth,  and  graces  rare  ; 
But  vainly  had  preferr'd  his  claim, 
The  maiden  own'd  no  answering  flame  ; 


Comic.  WOODWORTH'S.  179 


The    V\hiskers— a  Tal< 


At  length,  by  doubt  and  anguish  torn, 
Suspense,  too  painful  to  be  borne, 
Low  at  her  feet  he  humbly  kneel'd, 
And  thus  his  ardent  flame  reveafd  : 

"  Pity  my  grief,  angelic  fair, 
Behold  my  anguish  and  despair  ; 
For  you  this  heart  must  ever  burn — 
O  bless  me  with  a  kind  return ; 
My  love  no  language  can  express, 
Reward  it  then  with  happiness  ; 
Nothing  on  earth  but  you  I  prize, 
All  else  is  trifling  in  my  eyes  j 
And  cheerfully  would  I  resign 
The  wealth  of  worlds,  to  call  you  mine. 
But,  if  another  gain  your  hand, 
Far  distant  from  my  native  land, 
Far  hence,  from  you  and  hope,  I'll  fly, 
And  in  some  foreign  region  die." 

The  virgin  heard,  and  thus  replied  : 
*•  If  my  consent  to  be  your  bride, 
Will  make  you  happy,  then  be  blest, 
But  grant  me  first  one  small  request  ; 
A  sacrifice  I  must  demand, 
And  in  return  will  give  my  hand." 

"  A  sacrifice  !  O  speak  its  name, 
For  you  Fd  forfeit  wealth  and  fame  ; 


180  WOODWORTH'S.  Comic. 

The  Whiskers— a  Tale. 

Take  my  whole  fortune — every  cent—" 

"  'Twas  something  more  than  wealth  I  meant/' 

"  Must  I  the  realms  of  Neptune  trace  ? 

0  speak  the  word — where'er  the  place, 
For  you,  the  idol  of  my  soul, 

I'd  e?en  explore  the  frozen  pole  j 
Arabia's  sandy  deserts  tread, 
Or  trace  the  Tigris  to  its  head." 

"  O  no ;  dear  sir,  I  do  not  ask 
So  long  a  voyage,  so  hard  a  task  5 
You  must — but  ah  !  the  boon  I  want, 

1  have  no  hope  that  you  will  grant." 

"  Shall  I,  like  Bonaparte,  aspire 
To  be  the  world's  imperial  sire  ? 
Express  the  wish,  and  here  I  vow, 
To  place  a  crown  upon  your  brow." 

•"  Sir,  these  are  trifles" — she  replied—- 
"  But  if  you  wish  me  for  your  bride, 
You  must — but  still  I  fear  to  speak — 
You'll  never  grant  the  boon  I  seek." 

"  O  say  !"  he  cried — "  dear  angeLsay — 
What  I  must  do,  and  I  obey ; 
No  longer  rack  me  with  suspense, 
Speak  your  commands,  and  send  me  hence." 


Comic.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


The  Whiskers—  a  Tale. 


"  Well,  then,  dear  generous  youth  !"  she  cries. 
'•'  If  thus  my  heart  you  really  prize, 
And  wish  to  link  your  fate  with  mine, 
On  one  condition  I  am  thine  ; 
"Twill  then  become  my  pleasing  duty, 
To  contemplate  a  husband's  beauty  ; 
And  gazing  on  his  manly  face, 
His  feelings  and  his  wishes  trace  ; 
To  banish  thence  each  mark  of  care, 
And  light  a  smile  of  pleasure  there. 
O  let  me  then,  'tis  all  I  ask, 
Commence  at  once  the  pleasing  task  ; 
O  let  me,  (as  becomes  my  place) 
Cut  those  huge  whiskers  from  your  face." 

She  said  —  but  O,  what  strange  surprise 
Was  pictured  in  her  lover's  eyes  ! 
Like  lightning  from  the  ground  he  sprung, 
While  wild  amazement  tied  his  tongue  ; 
A  statue,  motionless,  he  gazed, 
Astonish'd,  horror-struck,  amazed. 
So  look'd  the  gallant  Perseus,  when 
Medusa's  visage  met  his  ken  ; 
So  look'd  Macbeth,  whose  guilty  eye 
Discern'd  an  "  air-drawn  dagger"  nigh; 
And  so  the  prince  of  Denmark  stared, 
When  first  his  father's  ghost  appeared. 
16 


182  WOODWORTH'S.  Comic. 

The  Inexperienced  Barber — a  Tale. 

At  length  our  hero  silence  broke, 
And  thus  in  wildest  accents  spoke  : 
"Cut  off  my  whiskers  !  O  ye  gods  ! 
I'd  sooner  lose  my  ears,  by  odds ; 
Madam,  I'd  not  be  so  disgraced, 
So  lost  to  fashion  and  to  taste, 
To  win  an  empress  to  my  arms, 
Though  blest  with  more  than  mortal  charms. 
My  whiskers  !  Zounds  !"  He  said  no  more, 
But  quick  retreated  thro'  the  door, 
And  sought  a  less  obdurate  fair, 
To  take  the  beau  with  all  his  hair. 


THE  INEXPERIENCED  BARBER. 

The  other  day,  a  certain  beau, 

Before  he  could  a  courting  go, 

Must  needs  be  dress'd ;  so  off  he  flew, 

To  the  first  shop  that  met  his  view  5 

"  Come,  Barber,'7  he  exclaims  in  haste, 

"  Display  for  once  a  little  taste, 

"  Exert  your  powers,  and  don't  be  stupid, 

"  But  make  me  pretty  as  a  Cupid. 

»f  Consult  my  visage  now  with  care, 

"  And  to  my  looks  adapt  my  hair." 


Comic. 


WOODWORTirS. 


183 


The  Inexperienced  Barber. 


The  man,  a  novice  in  his  trade, 
His  best  abilities  displayed  ; 
And  Cupid  from  his  chair  arose, 
A  finished  beauty,  we  suppose  ; 
Approacb'd  the  glass,  his  visage  spied, 
Then  turning  to  the  Barber,  cried — 
a  Is  this  your  boasted  taste  ? — for  shame  ! 
"  Such  dressing  don't  deserve  the  name  ; 
"  My  head,  with  all  these  curls  and  plaster, 
"  Looks  like  the  very  devil.,  master." 
The  barber  in  a  humble  tone, 
Replied,  "  Dear  sir,  the  fault's  your  own, 
"  You  bade  me  view  your  face  with  care, 
"  And  to  your  looks  adapt  your  hair." 


QUARTER-DAY, 


OR    THE 


Horrors  of  the  First  of  May, 
A  POEM. 


NOTE. 

The  following  Poem  is  founded  on  a  custom  pecu 
liar  to  the  city  of  Nev-YorJe,  where  rents  and  leases 
•uniformly  commence  on  the  Jirst  day  of  MAY.  It 
was  the  production  of  a  few  leisure  evenings  in  the 
spring  of  1812,  and  dedicated  (see  line  42d)  to  the 
honourable  Dewitt  Clinton*  then  Mayor  of  the  city  of 
New-York. 


QUARTER-DAY, 

A  POEM. 


W  HILE  sylvan  bards  awake  the  tuneful  strain 
Responsive  to  the  murmur  of  some  rill 
Meandering  slow  along  the  rushy  dale  5 
Or,  deep  embosom M  in  the  sweet  recess 
Of  fragrant  bower,  by  feathered  choir  made  vocal,     5 
Chant,  to  the  flow'r-deck'd  lyre,  a  hackney 7d  theme, 
The  sweets  of  MAY  in  vernal  beauties  dight ; 
Mine  be  the  task,  in  city  garret  pent, 
Stunn'd  by  the  tuneless  serenade  of  wheels, 
O'er  pavements  rolling,  dissonant  and  harsh,  10 

To  sing  of  MAY  arrayed  in  HORROR'S  garb 
Terrific.     MAY  THE  FIRST,  call'd  QUARTER-DAY, 
That  period  of  suspense,  of  fear,  despair, 
And  each  ungracious  feeling  that  annoys : 


138  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

That  temporal  day  of  judgment,  when  unhoused       15 

And  trembling  mortals,  at  the  awful  bar 

Of  merciless  landlords,  render  their  accounts, 

And  lenity  implore,  too  oft,  in  vain. 

Come,  Heaven-born  Sympathy,  still  prompt  to  give 
A  tear  to  grief,  or  lend  a  smile  to  joy,  20 

Be  thou  my  muse  ;  inspire  my  feeble  verse 
In  thy  behalf;  O  teach  the  bard  to  fill 
With  glowing  hues  the  outlines  here  portray'd, 
And  give  a  faithful  picture  of  the  scene. 
Hold  thou  the  palet,  Truth  shall  guide  his  hand,       25 
To  trace  the  horrors  of  that  dreadful  day, 
When  this  proud  city,  with  commotion  filFd, 
Presents  a  scene  of  tumult,  noise,  and  strife, 
With  which  compared,  old  Babel's  lofty  tower 
Was  Orders  temple  and  the  shrine  of  peace.  SO 

That  day,  to  Poverty  so  full  of  wo, 
And  which  the  bard,  her  chosen  son,  despairs 
To  meet  prepared,  unless  his  song  should  win 
The  golden  charm  to  strip  it  of  its  frowns. 

Such  be  the  untried  theme,  for  whichj  now          35 
Loose  from  its  .wooden  peg  my  dusty  harp, 
By  cobwebs  long  enshrined,  disused,  untuned  ; 
But  if  the  jarring  wire  can  yield  a  sound 
That  only  tastes  of  melody^ 'O  deign. 


DescriptU  e.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  1 89 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Ye  friends  of  song,  to  listen  to  my  lay,  40 

Which  boasts,  at  least,  virginity  and  truth. 

And  thou,  in  whom  unrivall'd  talents  draw 
From  virtue  dignity  ;  whose  private  worth 
And  public  fame  have  calPd  thee,  by  the  voice 
Of  patriot  freemen,  guardians  of  the  state,  45' 

To  fill  the  chair  of  Justice,  and  become 
The  watchful  father  of  a  city's  weal — 
O  listen  to  my  humble  song.     The  muse 
Aspires  to  court  thy  patronage  and  favor ; 
Not  for  the  pride  of  birth,  or  vain  parade  50 

Of  pompous  heraldry,  which  FREEMEN  leave 
The  boast  of  liveried  slaves  ;  her  reverence  springs 
From  love  of  virtues  which  ennoble  thee 
Beyond  an  emperor's  gift  ;  but  more  than  all 
For  that  unfeign'd  benevolence  of  heart  55 

Which  oft  has  screened  from  fell  Oppression's  power 
The  wretch  unfortunate,  by  landlord  stripp'd 
Of  all  the  goods  domestic  wants  require  ; 
That  sympathy  which  dries  the  widow's  tear, 
Protects  the  orphan,  and  forever  sheds  60 

A  cloudless  lustre  on  the  name  of  CLINTON. 

* 

While  yet  Aquarius,  from  his  ponderous  jar, 
With  liberal  hand,  on  Winter's  frosty  shrine, 
His  gelid  offering  pours,  libations  rude 


190  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

Quarter-Day— or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Of  noxious  vapours,  sleet,  and  hail,  and  rain  ;          65 

While  yet  the  town  in  desolation  lies, 

The  streets  delightless,  save  the  tuneful  hum 

Of  tinkling  sleigh-bells  ;  and  while  yet  the  clock 

Of  annual  tenure  strikes  three  quarters  past, 

With  "  dreadful  note  of  preparation,"  now,  TO 

E'en  now  the  scene  commences.     Prompt  to  call, 

The  landlord,  with  prelusive  tale  of  loss 

By  fire,  or  worthless  tenants,  shows  his  bill, 

Throwing  a  glance  expressive  round  the  room, 

Which  says,  as  plain  as  miser's  eyes  can  speak,        75 

"  My  money  or  your  goods."     This  pittance  paid, 

If  happily  within  the  tenant's  power, 

This  ghost  appears  no  more  till  the  great  day 

Which  comes  anon.     Meantime  the  anxious  search 

For  tenements  begins  ;  for  rents  increase,  80 

And  half  our  population,  or  for  that, 

Or  business,  or  for  fashion,  must  remove, 

And  with  bright  May  begin  another  year. 

7Tis  the  strange  mania  that  disclaims  a  cure, 

Though  its  impolicy  great  Franklin  urged,  85 

And  sad  experience  demonstrate  the  fact. 

Now  on  the  posts  and  lintels  of  our  doors 

Appear  the  mystic  scrolls,  uncouthly  traced, 

Putting  to  blush  orthography  and  sense  ; 

But  plain  enough  to  let  the  passer  know  90 

Their  vast  import — "  a  house,  or  rooms  to  let." 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Quarter-Day  —  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

At  this  inclement  season,  ye  who  share 
A  tenfold  portion  of  terrestrial  wealth, 
Who  boast  the  face  and  image  of  a  God, 
O  strive  in  temper  to  be  like  him  too,  93 

And  purchase  stock  in  Heaven's  eternal  funds. 
Cherish  sweet  pity  in  your  manly  breasts 
For  all  Misfortune's  hapless  race,  and  be 
The  guardians,  not  the  tyrants  of  the  poor. 
O  I  have  seen  such  curs'd  oppressive  acts,  100 

Such  merciless  deeds  of  cruelty,  enforced 
By  griping  Landlords,  despots  of  an  hour,. 
As  would  with  blushes  light  a  demon's  cheek, 
And  to  a  seraph's  call  the  pitying  tear. 
And  all  for  what  ?  A  drop  of  ocean  lost  !  10£> 

The  wretched  pittance  of  a  quarter's  rent  ! 
(The  pauper's  shelter  cannot  cost  him  much) 
A  few  poor  pounds,  which,  added  to  the  heap 
Of  yellow  dirt  the  mole  is  Heaving  up, 
Were  scarce  perceived  —  by  poverty  withheld,         llO 
Is  crime  enough  to  doom  the  shivering  wretch 
With  wife  and  children  —  (what  augmented  pangs  !) 
To  brave,  unhoused,  the  less  remorseless  storm  ; 
Or  else,  entomb'd  within  a  prison's  walls, 
Endure  the  anguish  of  a  "  living  death  !"  11  5 

Inhuman  tyrants  !  Vassals  of  your  lusts  ! 
Idolaters,  who  worship  Aaron's  calf! 
Allow  the  sufferer  time,  and  you  may  win 


192  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

The  golden  god  without  such  sacrifice, 

The  immolation  of  your  fellow-man  !  120 

Give  him,  at  least,  the  chance  you  would  a  deer, 

A  generous  start,  and  when  he  stands  at  bay, 

*Tis  time  enough  to  slip  the  dogs  of  death, 

And  glut  your  Nero-appetites  with  blood. 

In  ORMOND'S  garret,  near  proud  Hudson's  stream, 
Resided  once  a  fond  contented  pair  :  126 

The  youthful  EDWIN,  just  in  wedlock  join'd 
To  the  dear  object  of  his  boyish  love, 
The  fair  AMELIA.     Though  their  humble  hopes 
Were  bounded  by  necessity's  demand,  130 

They  were  but  barely  realized  ;  and  Want 
Would  sometimes  knock,  but  never  dared  intrude. 
Yet  still  industry,  by  affection   urged, 
With  frugal  management,  and  sprightly  health, 
Secured  them  comfort  ai*d  domestic  peace  ;  135 

Each  homely  meal  receiving  higher  zest, 
From  being  earn'd  before  it  was  enjoy 'd. 
One  year  roll'd  round,  and  in  their  favour  left 
A  trifling  balance,  after  all  demands 
Were  satisfied  with  scrupulous  exactness.  140 

Sacred  treasure  !  for  one  fonfl  event 
Now  hastening  on,  the  consecrated  boon 
Was  joyfully  reserved  ;  while  smiling  hope 
Lent  double  vigour  to  the  daily  task 


Descriptive-.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  193 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Which  fed  the  pair,  and  saved  the  little  fund.         145 
But,  ah  !  relentless  fate  had  woes  in  store 
Unmerited  by  virtue  such  as  theirs. 
The  tender  moment,  destined  to  complete 
Their  little  plan  of  happiness,  arrived  ; 
But  only  came  to  blast  their  fondest  hopes.  150 

The  poor  AMELIA,  after  nameless  pangs, 
That  push'd  her  to  the  precipice  of  fate, 
And  left  her  trembling  on  its  dizzy  verge, 
Ushered  to  light,  but  not  to  life,  a  babe. 
EDWIN,  distracted,  o'er  the  sufferer  hung,  15.~v 

As  though  his  loved  AMELIA'S  wasting  life 
Was  with  the  web  of  his  existence  wove. 
\ight  after  night,  and  day  succeeding  day, 
His  eyes  estranged  from  sleep,  his  frame  from  rest, 
He  watch 'd  her  fading  form,  and  by  her  couch,      l6() 
Entranced  in  speechless  agony,  remained. 
Doctors  and  nurses,  nostrums,  fuel,  food, 
And  all  the  nameless  calls  of  sickness,  soon 
Exhausted  EDWIN'S  little  frugal  store, 
And  nought  but  want,  disease,  and  deep  despair,  l6j> 
Remain'd  the  inmates  of  his  drear  abode. 
The  few  utensils  of  domestic  use 
Their  humble  means  afforded,  one  by  one, 
Had  found  their  way  to  grace  a  broker's  stall, 
Till  the  poor  couch  on  which  AMELIA  lay,  l~0 

(The  scene  of  all  his  joys  and  all  his  woes) 
17 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive. 


Quarter-Day  —  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Alone  remained  of  EDWIN'S  worldly  wealth. 

'Twas  at  this  crisis,  while  the  husband  stood, 

Absorb'd  in  grief,  beside  the  senseless  fair, 

His  landlord  entered.     ORMOND,  who  could  count  175 

The  annual  tribute  of  an  hundred  rents  ; 

ORMOND,  whose  coffers  groaivd  with  their  contents, 

Came  to  demand  the  recent  quarter's  due  ! 

The  heart-broke  mourner  raised  his  humid  eyes 

And  threw  them  round  the  desolated  room,  180 

Then  pointing  to  the  melancholy  bed 

Bade  savage  ORMOND  view  his  little  all. 

*;  Ha  !  swindling  wretch  !  (the  human  monster  cried) 

Your  goods  embezzled,  and  myself  unpaid  ! 

Thus  every  year  some  cursed  loss  like  this  185 

Have  I  to  meet  :  but  you  shall  not  escape." 

"  Forbear,  (cries  Edwin)  and  respect  my  grief! 

This  scene  is  sacred  to   despair  and  silence. 

Let  me  but  catch  AMELIA'S  parting  breath, 

Close  her  dear  eyes,  and  give  a  farewel  kiss,          193 

Then,  wretch  !  dispose  of  EDWIN  as  you  please." 

"  What  little  your  dishonesty  has  left, 

ORMOND  replies,  this  moment  shall  secure  ; 

Your  bed  is  mine  !??     A  marshal,  at  his  beck, 

Entered  the  room,  and  both  approach'd  the  couch.  195 

EDWIN,  whose  spirit  sorrow  had  subdued, 

Entreated,  prayed,  and  on  his  knees  implored. 

A  little  respite  —  but,  alas  !  in  vain  ! 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  195 

Quarter-Day— or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

With  savage  coolness,  they  commenced  the  task — 
AMELIA,  writhing  in  the  pangs  of  death, 
They  placed,  ungently,  on  the  cheerless  floor, 
Secured  their  prey,  and  saw  the  sufferer  die  ! 

Nor  ye,  who  startle  at  such  fiend-like  deeds, 
With  undissembled  horror,  think  I  paint 
A  fancy-piece  ;  for  this  was  drawn  from  life —         205 
The  wretch  still  lives  to  curse  his  fellow-men. 
Nor  vainly  think  such  Nero-spirits  few, 
Wrhile  thousands  pine  beneath  their  despot  sway. 
Ask  the  poor  widow  whom  a  merciless  wretch 
Doom'd  to  the  horrors  of  a  grated  cell,  210 

Her  grief  unheeded,  and  her  infant  train 
Deprived  the  comfort  of  a  mother's  care. 
A  circling  year  has  scarcely  rolFd  its  round 
Since  BURGER'S  wrongs  were  made  the  public  theme. 


214th  1.     Since  Burger's  irroiigs,  &c. 

This  passage  needs  no  comment  save  the  insertion  of  the  following' 
notice,  copied  from  the  Columbian  of  March  11,  1811. 

To  the  Charitable  and  Philanthropic. 

The  assistance  and  charitable  contributions  of  the  humane  and  be 
nevolent,  are  earnestly  solicited  to  relieve  the  wants,  alleviate  the  mis 
eries,  and  soothe  the  anguish,  of  a  poor  and  friendless  widow,  named 
Burger ;  who,  with  her  three  children,  are  now  deprived  of  support, 
and  destitute  of  sustenance,  by  her  being  confined  in  the  debtors'  i>rir 
son  of  Ibis  city,  for  a  paltry  debt  due  for  house  rent,  to  a  wealthy^ 


196  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

Quarter-Day— or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

And  found,  in  public  sympathy,  redress.  215 

Attend  a  sheriff's  sale  ;  the  savage  rites 

Qf  Plutus7  worship,  on  whose  golden  shrine 

The  little  worldly  comforts  of  the  poor, 

Without  compunction,  still  are  sacrificed, 

.Fattening  his  priests  at  honesty's  expense  !  220 

See  that  fond  mother  striving  to  redeem 

A  little  trinket,  worth  the  world  to  her, 

The  death-bed  token  of  a  darling  son. 

But,  ah  !  she  strives  in  vain — for  prayers  and  tears 

Are  all  she  has  to  give ;  and  what  are  these          225 

To  sordid  souls  who  worship  wealth  alone  ! 

The  hammer  falls,  and  7tis  for  ever  gone. 

What,  but  this  spirit,  doom'd  the  feeling  HOWARD 
For  sixteen  years  to  languish  in  a  jail,  230 


but  cruel,  rapacious,  vindictive,  inexorable  and  unfeeling  landlord, 
named ,  who  brutally  attempted  to  deprive  her  and  her  chil 
dren  of  the  shelter  afforded  of  a  desolate  house  during  the  late  severe 
snow-storm ;  though  the  poor  unhappy  woman  had  previously  paid 
her  rent  punctually  to  him  ;  and  though  she  offered  to  pay  him  a  stat 
ed  si>m  weekly  out  of  the  earnings  of  her  manual  labour  until  the 
amount  due  should  have  been  paid. 
"  Jl/an's  inhumanity  to  man,  makes  countless  thousands  mourn.'11 

230/&  1.     For  sixteen  years  to  languish  in  a  jail,  &c. 
The  essays  of  Howard  are  well  known.      He  reprobated  the  sys 
tem  of  imprisonment  for  debt,  and  says  that  he  was  sixteen  years  a 
prisoner  for  that  crime  in  the  jail  of  the  city  and  county  of  New-York. 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  IQJ 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Whose  only  crime,  to  give  its  blackest  name, 

Was  that  of  being  poor !  A  sad  offence  ! 

The  judge  who  dooms  a  felon  to  his  fate, 

Softens  his  sentence  with  the  tones  of  pity ; 

And  Justice,  while  she  strikes  the  fated  blow,         235 

From  her  stern  eye  emits  the  truant  tear  ; 

But  the  poor  debtor  hears  not  Pity's  voice, 

Beholds  no  falling  sympathetic  tear  ! 

His  sentence  is  his  adversary's  will, 

His  jury,  Malice,  Hate,  and  black  Revenge  ;          240 

And  while  these  triumph  o'er  the  falling  wretch, 

Insulted  Justice,  blushing,  drops  her  scales. 


"  It  is  (says  he)  a  horrid  place — and  many  a  time  when,  through  the 
grates  of  my  prison  window,  I  have  watched  the  last  rays  ofj'the  sot- 
tiag  sun  as  they  gilded  some  neighbouring  spire,  I  have  wondered  that 
any  man  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to  put  a  fellow  being  in  jail  for  debt." 
"  I  have  at  last  given  up  the  hope  of  liberty — blessed  liberty  !  I  can 
hardly  write  the  word  without  dropping  a  tear  at  the  recollection  of 
the  joyous  days  of  liberty  which  are  gone  forever.  I  am  sad  when  I 
think  how  they  have  fled  away  like  a  dream,  and  that  neither  I  nor 
my  creditors  can  ever  recal  them. 

"  Habit  has  so  altered  me  from  the  gay  being  that  I  was,  that  I 
really  suppose  if  I  were  offered  my  freedom  to-day  I  could  not  enjoy  it* 

"  As  the  hoary -headed  tenant  of  the  bastile,  whose  locks,  like  mine, 
whitened  in  confinement  for  no  crime,  most  probably  I  should  say — 
"  I  have  no  money — no  friends — my  talents  for  business  are  lost — I 
have  forgotten  the  ways  of  the  world— send  me  back  to  prison,  for  the 
light  is  hateful." 

IT* 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive, 


Quarter-Day  —  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Howard  was  blest  with  youth,  and  health,  and  all 
That  could  impart  a  charm  to  human  life  ; 
A  faithful  partner,  and  a  smiling  boy,  245 

Between  them  shared  a  heart  replete  with  love. 
But,  ah  !  too  generous  for  his  humble  means, 
To  save  his  friend,  he  lost,  alas  !  himself  5 
And  here,  on  Freedom's  consecrated  soil, 
The  exile's  refuge  and  the  wanderer's  home,  250 

Vias  robb'd  at  once  of  Freedom,  home,  and  all, 
And  buried  in  the  horrors  of  a  jail  ! 
Struck  to  the  soul,  his  wife,  his  dearer  self, 
Broken  with  grief,  the  victim  of  despair, 
Languish'd  awhile  and  found  relief  in  death.  255* 

Her  infant  shortly  shared  her  mother's  fate, 
Leaving  the  father,  husband,  whelm'd  in  wo, 
Alone  and  friendless,  without  even  Hope 
To  dart  a  ray  of  comfort  through  his  cell  ; 
Bereaved  of  freedom,  consort,  child,  and  friends,  260 

245//1  I.  A  faitl  tf  ill  partner  and  a  smiling  hoy. 
"  When  I  entered  the  walls  of  this  terrible  jail,  in  which,  amid  the 
rattling  of  chains,  I  am  now  writing  this  little  impertinent  story  of  my- 
jelf,  I  was  younp:,  in  good  health,  blest  with  a  wife  whom  I  adored, 
arid  a?  fine  a  boy  as  ever  smiled  in  the  face  of  a  father.  The  boy  is 
dead  —  and  my  wife  is  no  more.  She  was  indeed  a  mo?t  excellent  wo 
man,  but  she  was  wounded  to  the  soul  by  the  horrors  of  our  situation  — 
her  spirit  was  broken  down,  and  she,  with  the  infant  that  caused  hen 
Mchness,  died  in  child-bed  in  jaii,  shortly  after  irvy  imprisonment,  in 
the  year  1794,"  Howard. 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  199 

Quarter-Day—  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

To  gratify  a  miser's  sordid  spleen  ! 

The  tardy  years  rolPd  on  their  cheerless  round, 

Whitening  a  head  by  sorrows  thus  depressed, 

And  bending  youth  beneath  decrepit  age  ; 

Till  the  fourth  part  of  life's  allotted  span  265 

The  suffering  wretch  in  slavery  had  told  ! 

•Twas  this  same  fiend-like  spirit,  too,  that  sunk 
Unhappy  BROWN  to  an  untimely  grave  ; 


I.     Unhappy  Brown.  &.c. 

"  Some  years  since,  (says  Howard)  a  joung  man  by  the  name  of 
Brown  was  cast  into  the  prison  of  this  city  for  debt.  His  manners 
were  very  interesting.  His  fine  dark  eyes  beamed  so  much  intelli 
gence,  his  lively  countenance  expressed  so  much  ingenuousness,  that 
I  was  induced,  contrary  to  my  usual  rule,  to  seek  his  acquaintance.  — 
Companions  in  misery  soon  become  attached  to  each  other." 

"  Brown  was  informed  that  one  of  his  creditors  would  not  consent 
to  his  discharge,  that  he  had  abused  him  very  much,  (as  is  usual  in 
such  cases)  and  made  a  solemn  oath  before  his  God  to  keep  him  in 
iail  "  till  he  rotted".'.'  I  watched  Brown's  countenance  when  he 
received  this  information,  and  whether  it  was  fancy  or  not,  I  cannot 
say,  but  I  thought  I  saw  the  cheering  spirit  of  hope,  in  that  moment, 
desert  him  for  ever." 

"  Nothing  gave  Brown  pleasure,  but  the  daily  visits  of  his  amiable 
wife.  By  the  help  of  a  kind  relation,  she  was  able  to  give  Brown, 
sometimes,  soup,  wine,  and  fruit,  and  every  day,  whether  clear  or 
stormy,  she  visited  the  prison  to  cheer  the  drooping  spirits  of  her  hus 
band.  She  was  uncommonly  pretty.  She  seemed  an  angel,  admin- 
istering  consolation  to  a  man  about  to  converse  with  angels.  One 
day,  passed  the  hour  of  one  o'clock,  and  she  came  not.  Brown  was 


200  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive, 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

That  drove  the  poor  and  persecuted  SMITH 

To  desperation,  guilt,  and  shame,  and  death  ;         2fO 

EntaiPd  on  Danvers  undeserved  wo, 

And  doom'd  his  tender  daughter  to  the  flames. 

uneasv.  Two — three,  and  four  o'clock  passed,  and  she  did  not  ap 
pear.  Brown  was  distracted.  A  messenger  arrived.  Mrs.  Brown 
was  very  dangerously  ill,  and  supposed  to  be  dying  in  a  convulsive  fit. 
As  soon  as  Brown  received  this  information  he  darted  to  the  door  with 
the  rapidity  of  lightning.  The  inner  door  was  open — and  the  jailor, 
who  had  just  let  some  one  in,  was  closing  it  as  Brown  passed  violently 
through  it.  The  jailor  knocked  him  down  with  a  massy  iron  key 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  Brown  was  carried  lifeless  and  covered 
with  blood,  to  his  cell." 

"  Mrs.  Brown  died — and  her  husband  was  denied  even  the  sad 
privilege  of  closing  her  eyes.  He  lingered  for  some  time,  till  at  last, 
he  called  me  one  day,  and,  gazing  on  me  while  a  faint  smile  played 
upon  his  lips — he  said,  "  he  believed  death  was  more  kind  than  his 
creditors" — After  a  few  convulsive  struggles  he  expired  !" 

"  Legislators  and  sages  of  America  !  permit  me  to  ask  you — how 
much  benefit  has  that  creditor  derived  from  the  imprisonment  and 
consequent  death  of  an  amiable  man,  in  the  bloorn  of  youth— who, 
without  this  cruelty,  might  have  flourished,  even  now,  an  ornament 
and  a  glory  to  the  nation  ?" 

289M  I-     That  drove  the  poor  and  persecuted  StnilJt.  &.c. 

"  In  the  year  1303,  the  yellow  fever  raged  in  this  city  with  relentless 
fury.  Every  where  the  citizens  fled  from  the  destructive  pestilence  ; 
the  rich  resorted  to  the  seats  of  fashion  and  pleasure,  the  poor  sought 
refuge  in  those  shelters  provided  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city  by  the  bene 
volence  of  our  active  corporation.  Humanity  exerted  herself  in  favour 
of  every  class  of  the  community — except  the  debtors." 

"  Among  the  prisoners  who  endured  the  indescribable  horrors  of 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Quarter-Day—  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Unfeeling,  cruel,  and  remorseless  souls  ! 
Ye  who  on  Sunday  still  profanely  pray, 
k<  Forgive  our  debts,  as  we,  O  Lord,  forgive  275' 

Our  debtors"  —  may  the  letter  of  your  prayers 
Remain  unanswered  —  for,  'tis  death  ye  ask  ! 
And,  Oh  !  your  souls  are  not  prepared  for  that. 

this  season,  there  was  one  named  Smith.  His  wife  and  two  daughters 
kept  a  boarding  house  in  Water-street.  They  were  too  rich  to  be  in 
cluded  in  the  class  that  was  provided  for  by  the  corporation,  and  too 
poor  to  support  the  expenses  of  an  exile  in  the  country.  They  were, 
however,  preparing  to  tax  the  friendship  and  charity  of  some  of  their 
neighbours  for  a  little  loan  of  money  to  enable  them  to  move  with  their 
boarders  to  Greenwich,  when  Mr.  Smith  was  arrested  for  a  small  debt, 
and  thrown  into  prison. 

"  This  misfortune  disconcerted  their  plan  —  the  neighbours  fled,  and 
to  increase  the  miseries  of  Mrs.  Smith,  the  boarders,  who  had  hitherto 
contributed  to  her  support,  fled  also  ;  and  shortly  after,  herself  and 
both  her  daughters  fell  victims  to  the  prevailing  epidemic." 

"  And,  will  you  believe  it?  reader  !  no  entreaty,  no  bribe,  within 
the  father's  power,  could  prevail  on  any  one  to  go  to  his  house  to  bring 
him  information  of  the  state  of  his  family." 

"  The  first  and  last  information  this  unfortunate  father  ever  received 
ef  his  family,  was  in  the  newspaper.  They  were  buried  in  Potter's 
Field." 

"The  father  starved  awhile  in  jail,  till,  at  length,  goaded  by  his 
suffering,  he  forged  a  check  on  the  Manhattan  Bank,  was  transferred 
to  Bridewell,  and  from  thence,  after  trial  and  conviction,  was  con 
demned  to  the  State  Prison  for  seven  years.  Soured  by  misfortunes, 
and  rendered  misanthropic  by  unmerited  sufferings,  he  exulted  in  his 
crime,  and  often  was  heard  to  advise  people  rather  to  be  a  criminal 
?han  a  debtor  in  this  country,  for  that  society  here  furnished  the  erf- 


202  WOODWORTITS.  Descriptive. 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

When  meek-eyed  Pity  moved  the  generous  band 
To  range  our  city,  searching  for  distress,  280 

Bidding  the  widow's  cheerless  hearth  to  blaze, 
And  driving  cold  and  hunger  from  her  door, 
How  looked — how  felt  these  hard  obdurate  fiends  ? 


minal  with  the  conveniences  of  life,  while  the  debtor  was  suffered  to 
starve.  He  at  length  died,  the  enemy  of  society,  cursing  men  !  And 
this  is  one  among  the  millions  of  instances  in  which  slavery  for  debt 
bas  destroyed  families,  and  ruined  the  morals  of  a  man,  who,  under  a 
rational  government,  might  have  lived,  the  defender  of  liberty,  and  a 
disciple  of  religion." 

"  Unfeeling,  cruel,  pitiless  and  remorseless  creditors;  and,  legisla 
tors  of  New- York,  careless,  heedless  and  criminal  as  they,  whether  ye 
sleep  or  wake,  may  the  spirits  of  injured  Smith  and  his  suffering  family, 
give  ye  no  peace  till  your  hearts  shall  be  touched  with  pity,  and  your 
eyes  be  opened  to  the  folly  of  3'our  ways." 

271s*  1.     EntaiVd  on  Danvers  undeserved  woes,  &c. 

Danvers  was  a  fellow-prisoner  with  Howard.  His  little  daughter 
was  unfortunately  burnt  to  death  at  home,  while  Mrs.  Danvers  was 
visiting  her  husband  in  prison. 

"  As  soon  as  Danvers  came  here,  (says  Howard)  destitute  and  sad 
as  he  was,  he  felt  not  for  himself— but,  as  to  his  beloved  wife  and  two 
charming  children,  the  prospect  was  frightful.  Thanks  to  the  kind- 
ness  of  a  stranger,  they  were  not  permitted  to  starve." 

"  A  bookseller  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  prison  humanely  employ 
ed  Danvers  and  his  wife  in  folding,  cutting  and  stitching  books ;  and 
what  with  a  rigid  economy,  the  slender  earning  of  this  labour,  together 
with  the  occasional  aid  of  charity,  Danvers  and  his  wife  were  sometimes 
in  the  midst  of  misfortunes  blest  with  contentment. 

"  It  was  in  one  of  those  halcyon  hours  that  Danvers  and  myself 
were  "  making  merry"  over  the  last  remains  of  a  pitcher  of  ale,  which 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  203 

Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Did  not  a  fever  glow  upon  their  cheek, 

When  meddling  Memory  with  these  acts  compared    285 

Their  blacker  deeds  of  cruelty  ?     O,  no  ! 

For  devils  seldom  blush.     Their  feelings  then 

Resembled  those  of  the  infernal  race, 

When  Heaven  stoop'd  a  sinking  world  to  save. 

be  had  purchased  to  aid  us  in  celebrating  the  birth-day  of  his  little 
darling  daughter  Eliza.  Mrs.  Danvers,  who  had  hired  a  small  house 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  had  just  left  us,  saying,  as  she  departed, 
that  "  she  would  go  home  and  make  little  Eliza  drink  our  health,  for 
the  high  honours  paid  her  on  her  birth-day  by  the  prisoners.'* 

"It  was  winter,  and  as  Danvers,  peeping  through  the  grate  of  his 
prison,  saw  his  cheerful  and  amiable  wife  trudging  through  the  snow, 
to  carry  his  blessing  to  the  "  darling  Eliza" — "  Now,  Howard,"  said 
he,  "  by  the  goddess  of  mercy  !  (and  I  think  her  the  best  goddess  in 
the  catalogue)  I  feel  at  this  moment  that.  I  am  gay  in  spite  of  oppres 
sion.  My  wife  there  is  an  angel,  and  the  daughter,  whose  fourth  birth 
day  now  makes  me  so  happy,  is  worth  more,  in  my  estimation,  than  all 
the  wealth  in  the  world.  Dearly  as  I  love  my  liberty,"  continued  he, 
"  I  would  sooner  remain  a  slave  than  part  with  that  little  darling  of  my 
heart.  Come,  Howard  !  here's  to  many  happy  returns  of  Eliza's 
birth-dar."  So  saving,  he  took  up  the  cup,  and  was  just  applying  it 
to  his  lips,  when  suddenly  the  door  of  his  room  fiew  open,  and  in 
rushed  his  eldest  child,  covered  with  snow,  her  hands  and  face  purple 
with  cold,  her  eyes  wild,  and  the  tears  frozen  on  her  cheek.  It  was 
some  moments  before  her  excessive  grief  would  permit  her  to  speak. 
She  asked  for  her  mother — who  had  just  departed.  "  God  forbid," 
said  Danvers,  "  that  any  misfortune  should  happen  to  your  mother." 
At  length  the  girl  was  able  to  speak  :  "  Eliza  is  burnt  to  death  !" 

"  I  will  not  undertake  to  describe,  but  leave  the  reader  to  imagine 
the  consternation  of  Danvers,  when,  those  horrid  words  fell  upon  his 
car—"  Eliza  is  burnt  to  death !" 


WOODWORTH'S.  i>cscjiptiv 


Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  1  irst  of  May. 

But  MAY  approaches,  rugged  winter  flies,  290 

And  Poverty  can  bask  himself  and  smile. 
Those  who  intend  to  take  an  active  part 
In  this  great  drama,  now  are  all  prepared ; 
Their  various  characters  are  duly  cast, 

"  W'ith  tottering  steps,  he  reached  the  outward  gate  of  the  prison, 
and  faintly  asked  the  keeper  of  the  jail  to  send  some  one  to  his  house. 
"  What  will  you  give  me  r"  said  he  in  a  surly  tone  that  struck  to  the 
heart  of  Danvers.  At  that  instant  a  messenger  arrived  with  a  note 
from  Mrs.  Danvers.  With  a  trembling  hand  Danvers  opened  the  note 
and  read : 

"  My  husband,  come  instantly — Eliza  is  dying — come  instantly.'* 
The  words  were  somewh.it  defaced,  and,  evidently,  by  the  mother's 
tears.  I  looked  at  Danvers.  With  a  faltering  voice  he  begged  the 
iailor  to  go  with  him  that  he  might  see  his  dying  Eliza.  There  was  so 
much  of  intreating  wo  in  his  countenance,  that  no  human  being  could 
have  denied  his  request.  The  jailor  positively  refused. 

*'  Feeling  that  the  barbarity  of  the  law  absolutely  took  away  from 
him  all  hope  of  seeing  his  child  again,  Darners  indulged  in  the  frenzy 
of  grief,  imprecated  terrible  curses  on  the  heads  of  unfeeling  creditors, 
and  in  this  delirium  of  agony  was  dragged  to  his  room.  The  scene 
was  too  affecting  for  me  to  endure  it  any  longer,  and  I  turned  away 
almost  overcome  by  a  reflection  upon  the  indescribable  horrors  of  this 
miserable  prison. 

"  The  next  morning  I  received  from  the  afflicted  Danvers  the  follow 
ing  note  : 

"  Howard  !  my  child,  my  dear  Eliza  is  dead.  Her  mother,  since 
I  cannot  go  to  my  child,  will  bring  her  remains  to  me,  I  shall  see  her 
body — before  she  is  entombed.  Come  to  me  at  four — we  will  all  weep 
over  her  ?" 

"  At  the  time  proposed,  I  went  to  my  friend's  cell.  His  surviving: 
child  was  already  there.  The  roora  would  have  been  entirely  dark 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Quarter-Day— or  the   Horrors  of  the   First  of  May. 

By  managers,  to  one  or  both  of  whom  29 ."> 

All  must  submit — Necessity  and  Whim* 

?Tis  expectation  all — the  curtain  soon 

Will  rise  upon  a  busy,  noisy  scene, 

Such  as,  perhaps,  old  Goshen  once  displayed, 

When  Egypt's  house  of  bondage  Israel  left,*  300 

(Hard-hearted  PHARAOH  was  their  landlord  then) 

And  every  family,  at  once,  removed. 


but  for  a  little  lamp  which  stood  near  the  window,  "  casting  a  dim 
religious  light"  upon  the  iron  grates  on  the  outside.  He  rose  as  I 
approached,  and'pressing  my  hand  with  fervour,  pointed  to  a  seat, 
wished  me  well  in  a  low  voice,  and  resumed  his  former  place.  We 
had  not  long  been  seated  before  the  coffin  was  brought  in,  followed 
by  the  mourning  mother  and  her  old  servant  maid,  Lucy.  The  mo 
ther  and  the  daughter  covered  their  faces,  turned  aside,  and  wept 
aloud.  The  father  knelt  beside  the  bier,  fixed  his  eyes  silently  upon 
the  child's  face,  contemplated  it  with  great  anxiety  for  some  minutes, 
then  suddenly  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears,  made  some  low,  faiterina", 
but  indistinct  exclamations,  and  waved  his  haod  to  the  attendant,  who 
caused  the  coffin  to  be  taken  away." 

279</i  /.     When  meek-eyed  Pity  moved  the  generous  band,  &c. 
This  alludes  to  a  Society  of  gentlemen,  (of  whom  the  benevolent 
TDewitt  Clinton  was  one)  called  the  "  Good  Samaritans ,-"   formed 
forlhe  purpose  of  visiting  the  poor  in  this  city  during  the  ivell  remem 
bered  hard  winter,  and  distributing  relief  to  all  who  stood  in  need  of 
it.   In  the  most  inclement  weather  they  regularly  took  their  charitable 
circuit,  and  always  returned  loaded  with  the  widow's  benedictions  and 
the  orphan's  thanks.     How  god-like !     How  worthy  of  imitation ! 
18 


206  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive. 


Quarter-Day — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

But  first,  while  yet  the  anxious  tenant  counts 
His  landlord's  claim,  at  twelve  to-morrow  due  ; 
Or  of  his  wealthier  friends,  a  part  from  each, 
Attempts  to  borrow,  to  secure  his  stuff; 
The  busy  matron  and  her  daughters  ply, 
With  peevish  fretfulness,  their  annual  task. 
Down  come  the  bedsteads,  tumbled  in  the  yard, 
Where  hot  ablutions  drive  their  tenants  out, 
And  take  their  lives  for  rent.     The  mirrors  next, 
And  all  the  pictures,  with  their  dusty  frames, 
Are  loosened  from  the  wall  to  grace  the  floor, 
Now  thickly  strew'd  with  broken  glasses  round, 
Baskets  of  crockery,  tables,  stands,  and  chairs, 
And  all  the  nameless  lumber  conjured  forth, 
Of  garret,  cellar,  pantry,  and  the  rest. 

The  night  in  which  pale  APRIL  yields  to  MAY, 
How  few  enjoy  repose  !   The  country  lass, 
Intent  upon  the  morning  walk,  with  him 
Who  holds  her  gentle  heart,  on  various  plans, 
In  hopeful  cogitations,  spends  the  night — 
What  hat,  or  ribbon,  will  become  her  best, 
What  most  will  tend  to  make  herself  outvie 
The  blushing,  fragrant  month  they  rise  to  hail. 
O,  by  my  soul !  this  MAYING  has  delights 
Which  I  shall  ne'er  forget,  while  memory  holds 
Her  seat  within  my  brain.     In  youth's  fair  dawn, 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S. 


Quarter-Day  —  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

I  forward  look'd  to  this  delightful  hour 

With  feelings  —  feelings  none  can  paint  ;  for  then,      330 

Some  gentle,  artless,  unaffected  nymph, 

Was  sure  to  be  the  partner  of  my  walk, 

Accept  my  nosegays,  (sweetened  by  her  breath) 

And,  without  chiding,  let  me  steal  a  kiss 

From  lips  more  fragrant  than  the  rose  she  held.      335 

Season  of  love,  and  innocent  delight, 
Where  NATURE  reigns  the  mistress  of  the  scene, 
Farewell  !  Imprisoned  in  the  cell  of  ART, 
Stifled  with  dust,  and  stunn'd  with  ceaseless  noise, 
Through  the  rough  grates  I  can  but  take  a  peep,     340 
And  sigh  a  sad  adieu  !  To-morrow's  sun 
Returns  once  more  THE  DAY  —  but  how  returns  ? 
Not  with  the  bliss  that  country  swains  enjoy  — 
No  tender  thoughts  will  make  me  watch  to-night, 
And  yet,  alas  !  I  shall  not  taste  of  rest  !  345 

My  LANDLORD  is  the  master  of  my  fate  ; 
And  who  can  tell  if  next  meridian  sun 
Will  not  behold  me  dispossess'd  of  all 
The  humble  stock  of  worldly  wealth  I  own  ? 
My  wife  and  boy  may  —  that's  digression  though  —    350 
Are  there  not  thousands,  too,  who  feel  like  me, 
And  tremble  at  the  near  approach  of  MAY  ? 
Not  for  their  sins  —  but  for  the  power  of  those 
Whom  wealth  and  accident  have  made  their  lords. 


208  W'OODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

Quarter  Day— or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Nor  suffers  MAN  alone — the  humbler  brute  355 

Shares  in  "  the  horrors  of  thejirst  of  May:" 
Where  COMMERCE  (now  diseas'd)  once  glow'd  in  health, 
Rattling  o"er  pavements  with  her  hundred  wheels, 
Near  the  Tontine — rtis  dangerous  to  pass, 
On  any  morning,  save  "  the  Jirst  of  May."  S60 

There,  waiting  for  employ,  a  hardy  train 
Stand  by  their  carts,  which  block  the  passage  up, 
Eager  to  start  their  lean  uncurried  beasts, 
With  any  burden,  for  a  trifling  fee. 
Not  so  to-day — the  piers  and  slips  are  clear'd,       365 
And  every  cartman  busy  :  double  fees, 
Back'd  by  entreaties,  too,  are  sometimes  vain  ; 
And,  like  knight-errants,  you  may  be  condemned 
To  watch,  all  night,  your  arms,  and  household  stuff; 

357th  I.   Where  Commerce,  now  diseased,  &c. 

The  embarrassments  under  which  American  commerce  laboured, 
for  some  time  previous  to  the  late  war  with  Great  Britain,  are  well 
remembered. — Publishers1  Note. 

368th  I.  And,  like  knight-errant,  &c. 

This  line  alludes  to  the  ancient  custom  of  watching  armour  in 
church  or  chapel,  which  was  a  religious  duty  imposed  upon  knights, 
in  the  age  of  chivalry,  when  they  used  to  consume  the  whole  night  in 
prayer  to  some  saint  whom  they  chose  as  their  patron  ;  and  this  ex 
ercise  of  devotion  was  performed  on  the  night  preceding  the  said 
Sainfs  Day.  The  same  ceremony  was  observed  by  those  who  were 
sentenced  to  the  combat  proof. 


Descriptive,  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Quarter-Day—  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

While  some  more  lucky  tenant  holds  the  place         370 
From  which  you  vainly  strove  to  be  removed. 

There  is  a  sport,  well  known  in  country  towns, 
Yclep'd  "  The  Toilet  ,"  which  I've  often  join'd 
At  milk-maids'  parties  —  where  the  humour  lies 
In  having  chairs  enough  for  all  but  one,  37^> 

Who  takes  the  middle  of  the  happy  ring, 
Unseated  ;  till,  the  signal  given,  all 
Must  change  their  places  5  who  obtains  no  seat, 
Incurs  a  forfeit,  and  the  centre  takes, 
To  give  the  signal  for  another  change.  380 

Such  is  the  game  our  city  represents 
"  Thejirst  of  May"  —  for  each  must  change  his  place, 
Uncertain  if  he  get  a  seat  or  no. 

The  curtain  rises,  and  the  play  begins  — 
Here  at  the  corner,  screened  by  oaken  post,  385 

The  muse  shall  take  her  stand,  and  view  the  scene. 
At  every  door,  behold  the  ready  cart 
Receive  its  cumbrous  load  5  the  horse  throws  round 
A  glance  of  meek  compassion,  which  to  me 
Speaks  in  a  language,  plain  as  brutes  can  speak,     390 
"  What  a  poor  fool  is  man  !"     His  driver  swears, 
Wives  scold,  dogs  bark,  cats  mew,  and  children  cry, 
Pots  break,  chairs  crack,  pans  ring,  and  jarring  notes 
Of  harshest  discord  rise  on  every  side. 
18* 


2- 10  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive 

Quarter-Day— or  the  Horrors  of  the.  First  of  May. 

There  goes  a  matron  with  her  looking-glass,     395 
A  legacy  from  mother  to  her  child 
For  several  generations,  and  shell  trust 
None  to  remove  it  but  her  careful  self. 
But.  better  had  she  stow?d  it  on  the  car 
Where  all  her  baggage  rides ;  for  fate  has  doom'd,     400 
(By  sudden  contact  with  a  porter's  load) 
To  dash  the  sacred  treasure  from  her  hand 
On  the  unchristian  pavements,  where  she  views 
Her  scattered  hopes  in  rude  disorder  spread, 
Reflecting  houses,  passengers,  and  skies.  405 

Here  a  full  barrow,  piled  with  feather-beds, 
Puslrd  by  a  sturdy  porter,  runs  you  down, 
Ere  you  can  shun  the  danger ;  yonder  goes 
The  sweating  bearer  of  a  precious  load, 
Baskets  of  china-ware,  and  sweetmeat  jars,  410 

And  the  cold  relics* of  some  late  repast. 
And  here,  a  lumbering  cart  moves  slowly  on 
Piled  high  with  bureaus,  bedsteads,  tables,  desks, 
Chairs,  cradle,  rubbish,  wash-tubs,  kettles,  pots, 
Old  empty  barrels,  benches,  trammels,  pans,          415 
The  fire  utensils,  carpet-rags,  old  books, 
\nd  musty  pamphlets,  oil  jugs,  bottles,  frames, 
Mats,  brooms,  Dutch-ovens,  gridirons,  griddles,  jacks, 
Trunks,  piggins,  toasters,  pickle-pots,  and  all. 
?Tis  bustle,  tumult,  noise,  and  sore  dismay  420 

Throughout  the  city  ;  sleepless  was  the  night. 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  211 

Quarter-Day — or  tlv   Honors  ot'  the   f  irst  of  May. 

And  foodless  is  the  day,  for  all  must  fast ! 

On  every  face  is  seen  an  anxious  gloom, 

From  him  who  owns  a  half  a  dozen  blocks, 

Down  to  the  humblest  tenant  of  the  least;  425 

And  e'en  my  favourite  dog,  with  terror  struck, 

Gazes  askance  upon  the  troubled  scene, 

And  sneaks  to  some  lone  corner  for  repose. 

Who  then  is  happy  on  the  "  First  of  May," 
In  this  famed  city?  Not  the  purse-proud  wretch      430 
AVho  trembles  for  his  rents,  and  dooms  the  poor 
To  sink  in  deeper  wants  to  feed  his  lusts : 
Nor  yet  the  poor,  unless  their  virtues  rise 
Above  the  common  grade;  and  least  of  all 
The  poor  seduced,  mistaken  slaves  of  vice,  435 

Who  barter  chastity  and  health  for  gold. 
They,  too,  remove,  to-day  ;  but  'tis  to  change 
The  scene  of  guilt  and  shame,  be  more  oppress'd 
By  their  new  tyrants,  and  perhaps  condemn "d 
To  sin  for  wages  which  these  tyrants  share  I  440 

O  may  there  soon  a  fabric  rise  for  such, 
A  calm  retreat  from  a  censorious  world, 
Where  sin's  repenting  daughters  may  retire, 
And  find  forgiving  rnercy  !     Even  now 
A  chosen  few,  of  elevated  souls,  445 

Have  plamvd  the  edifice,  contrived  the  scheme, 
And  only  wait  assistance  from  ourselves. 


212  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

Quarter- Da}- — or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

Success  attend  them,  and  in  lasting  fame, 
The  Magdalen,  Society  shall  live. 


Who  then  is  happy  ?  Ere  she  close  the  strain, 
The  muse  herself  shall  answer.     7Tis  the  man 
(Of  easy  fortune  and  a  generous  heart) 
Whose  charity  by  wisdom  is  directed, 
Who  loves  his  God,  his  neighbour,  and  himself, 
In  just  descending  order  5  whose  employ 
Is  doing  good  to  others  ;  whose  reward, 
The  bright  reflection  of  the  joy  he  gives ; 
Like  a  mild  taper  in  a  diamond  lustre, 
Which  multiplies  one  little  ray  to  thousands, 
His  means  of  blessing  still  increase  by  use. 
Not  all  the  Horrors  of  the  first  of  May, 
Can  shake  the  solid  peace  of  such  a  man. 
The  changing  seasons,  times,  events,  and  all 
The  various  scenes  that  chequer  human  life, 
And  e'en  the  chilling  adverse  storms  of  fate, 
Serve  but  to  ripen  the  celestial  fruits 
His  active  love  produces  ;  draughts  of  bliss 
Pie  quaffs  for  every  little  taste  he  gives, 
And  finds  a  heaven  in  wishing  others  there. 
To  seek  for  happiness  in  things  of  sense, 


tve. 


441M  I.   The  Magdalen  Society  shall  In 
This  Society  was  instituted  about  the  period  at  which  this  Poem  was 
written,  and  has  been  attended  with  considerable  success. 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Quarter-Day  —  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May. 

In  wealth,  ambition,  pleasure,  or  supineness, 

Is  but  a  vain  exertion  —  idle  hope  ; 

For  then  we  chase  a  transitory  cheat, 

And  leave  the  game,  the  real  prize  behind, 

Hid  in  contentment's  calm  sequestered  vale,  475 

While  we  toil  up  the  mountain's  rugged  side, 

Tempting  new  dangers,  and  exposed  to  all 

The  storms  that  beat  ambition's  bleaker  road  ; 

Or  perils  worse  than  these,  conceaFd  beneath 

The  treacherous  sweets  which  bloom  in  pleasure's  path, 

A  thousand  serpent-stings,  unseen,  but  fatal.  481 

And  if  in  dastard  indolence  we  rest, 

Our  lazy  hopes  are  certain  of  defeat. 

Then  learn  the  true,  the  only  real  source 

Whence  happiness  can  flow  —  a  precept  drawn        485 

From  holy  writ  this  heavenly  source  proclaims  — 

~;  To  fear  the  Lord,  and  his  commands  obey, 

Is  man's  whole  duty,"  in  a  single  line  ; 

An  easy  yoke,  a  burthen  light  to  bear. 

?Tis  but  to  love  in  heart  and  action  both  —  490 

For  fore  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law. 


NEW-HAVEN 


A  POEM. 


NOTE. 

The  following  Poem  was  written  and  published  in 
the  year  1809,  and  every  copy  of  a  large  edition  dis 
posed  of.  The  author  has  since  been  frequently  soli 
cited  to  revise,  improve,  and  republish  it,  but  for  some 
reason  not  communicated,  ahcays  refused  to  comply. 
On  learning  our  determination,  however,  of  adding  it 
to  this  collection,  the  author  has  interpolated  a  few 
couplets,  altered  several  defective  lines,  and  subjoined 

-some  additional  notes. 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


NEW-HAVEN  : 

A  POEM. 


II  EVV-HAVEN  be  my  theme — nor  mean  the  name 

On  the  bright  tablet  of  Columbia's  fame ; 

For  here  did  Freedom  early  cast  the  yoke, 

And  felFd  the  despot  with  the  chains  she  broke; 

Here  Literature  and  Arts  have  since  combined  5 

To  culture  nature  and  enrich  the  mind  ; 

Here  fair  Religion  meekly  lifts  her  eye, 

And  gives  her  votaries  realms  beyond  the  sky ; 

Here  moral  worth  and  "  Steady  Habits'*  reign, 

While  Vice  and  Folly  seek  a  place  in  vain  I  10 

So  boasts  Report ;— but,  are  her  vauntings  true  r1 
Come,  virgin  Truth,  the  muse  appeals  to  you  ; 
Bid  Justice  come,  and  trace  with  us  the  town, 
Her  balance  bring,  but  throw  her  sabre  down  5 
19 


218  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

One  scale  shall  hold  the  praise  to  merit  due,  15 

And  Satire's  quiver  keep  the  balance  true  ; 

fe  Laugh  where  we  must  —  be  candid  where  we  can," 

Shall  be  the  motto  of  our  humble  plan, 

While  varying  objects  teach  the  muse  to  steer, 

"  From  grave  to  gay  —  from  lively  to  severe."  20 

'Tis  worth  and  virtue  —  not  the  man,  we  prize  — 

rTis  vice  and  folly  —  not  the  wretch,  that  dies. 

Hail,  happy  city  !  —  hail,  thrice  happy  state  ! 
Connecticut  !  supremely  wise  and  great  ! 
Whose  constitution  cannot  yet  be  broke,  %5 

Because  you  wear  not  such  a  cumbrous  yoke  ; 
Whose  laws  were  framed  upon  the  Jewish  mode, 
Till  you  had  time  to  form  a  better  code  ; 


.  'Tis  vice  and  folly,  &c. 
This  idea  is  borrowed  from  a  Cambridge  Exercise.  —  "  'Tis  not  the 
fool,  but  folly  is  our  mark." 

Z6th  I.  Because  you  wear  not  such  a  cumbrous  yoke. 
It  is  a  fact  that  the  state  of  Connecticut  has  never  yet  been  blessed 
with  a  constitution,  unless  the  royal  charter  of  king  Charles  can  be  so 
called. 

28th  I.  Till  you  had  time,  &c. 

The  first  settlers  of  Connecticut  passed  a  resolution,  in  a  general 
cpnvention,  that  they  would  "  be  governed  by  the  laws  of  God,  until 
they  had  time  to  make  better  ones." 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  219 

New-Haven 

To  which  the  sky's  cerulean  tint  was  given, 
A  proof  sufficient  that  they  came  from  Heaven.        30 
Hail,  famed  Connecticut !  where  still  we  trace 
The  "  steady  habits"  of  your  fathers'  race  ; 


29/7i  I.  To  which  the  sky's  cerulean  tint,  &c. 

Man}-  enquiries  have  been  made  respecting  the  signification  of  the 
term  "  Blue  Laws,"  which  has  been,  for  many  rears,  attached  1o  the 
political  character  of  the  State  of  Connecticut.  The  Pui-itans,  (33 
they  were  termed)  who  fled  from  religious  persecutions  in  Europe, 
after  landing  on  this  Continent,  still  rt-tained  a  portion  of  the  "  old 
leaven,"  and  proceeded  immediately  to  pass  laws  as  singular  as  they 
were  tyrannical,  and  as  oppressive  as  they  were  superstitious.  To  this 
dar  have  many  of  the  progeny  of  the  '  PitritunsJ  in  the  Eastern  States, 
particularly  in  Connecticut,  retained  a  portion  of  the  follies  of  their 
forefathers.  For  an  example  of  the  composition  of  what  is  now  term 
ed  Blue  Laws,  the  following  collection  of  a  few  of  the  many  curious 
punishments,  inflicted  for  various  offences,  is  copied  from  the  old  court 
records,  between  1630  and  1650  : 

"  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall,  fined  four  bushels  of  malt  for  his  absence 
from  Court. 

"  Josias  Plastove  shall  (for  stealing  four  baskets  of  corn  from  t 
Indians)  return  them  eight  baskets  again,  be  fined  51.  and  hereafter  to 
be  called  by  the  name  of  Josias,  and  not  J\f  r.  as  formerly  he  used 
to  be. 

"  Joyce  Bradwick  shall  give  unto  Alexander  Becks,  20s.  for  promis 
ing  him  marriage  without  her  friends'  consent,  and  now  refusing  to 
pei  form  the  same. 

"  William  James,  for  incontinency,  knowing  his  wife  before  maj1- 
riage,  was  sentenced  to  be  set  in  the  bilboes,  and  bound  in  20?. 


ce 

: 

fid 


•220  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

IVew-Haven. 

Where  liberal  minds  have  happy  sway  attained, 
By  priests  unshackled,  as  by  crime  unstained ! 
Where  genius  meets  a  rich  and  sure  reward,  35 

Where  speculation  never  meets  with  fraud ! 
Where  female  virtue  fears  no  hapless  flaw, 
For  chastity  is  here  secured  by  law ; 
Where  narrow  Prejudice  is  hunted  down, 
And  Superstition  drove  from  every  town  !  40 

"  Thomas  Peter,  for  suspicion  of  slamlet',  idleness  and  stubborness, 
is  to  be  severely  whipt,  and  kept  in  hold. 

"  Richard  Turner,  for  being  notoriously  drunk,  was  fined  21. 

"  John  Haggs,  forswearing  God's  foot,  cursing  his  servant,  and 
wishing  "  a  pox  of  God  take  you,"  was  fined  51. 

"  Edward  Palmer,  for  his  extortion,  taking  23s.  "id.  for  the  plank  and 
wood  work  of  the  stocks,  is  fined  51.  and  censured  to  be  set  an 
hour  in  the  stock?. 

"  John  White  is  bound  in  10/.  to  be  of  good  behaviour,  and  not  to 
come  into  the  company  of  his  neighbour  Thomas  Bull's  wife,  alone. 
•  Sarah  Hales  was  censured  for  her  miscarriage,  to  be  carried  to 
gallows  with  a  rope  about  her  neck,  and  set  upon  the  ladder,  the 

pe's  end  flung  over  the  gallows,  and  after  to  be  banished." 
38 tfi  I.  For  chastity,  &c. 

The.  punishment  for  female  indiscretion  was  formerly  cruelly  severe 
in  Connecticut.  When  an  unfortunate  fair  one  fell  a  victim  to  the 
arts  and  inlrigaes  of  the  unfeeling  votaries  of  seduction,  the  fatal  con 
sequences  of  her  error  were  not  deemed  a  sufficient  punishment ;  a  life 
embittered  with  tears  and  regret,  not  an  adequate  atonement !  No. — 
To  the  loss  of  peace  and  reputation  was  added  corporeal  torture — a 
public  scourging  on  a  disgraceful  scaffold !  To  the  honour  of  the 
state,  this  law  is  now  laid  aside  ;  but  I  blush  for  my  country  while  I 
record  its  funner  existence. 


-  r 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  221 

New-Haven. 

Where  Charity  conceals  each  fault  she  can. 

In  servile  beasts  —  if  not  in  lordly  man  ; 

Where  all  so  strictly  do  the  laws  maintain, 

That  litigation  lifts  its  head  in  vain  ; 

Where  all,  in  short,  is  bliss,  unknown  to  vice,  45 

Peace,  virtue,  innocence,  and  —  Paradise  f 

New-Haven,  hail  !  whose  puritanic  realm 
No  flood  of  heresy  can  ever  whelm  ; 
Whose  prisons,  gibbet,  pillory,  or  stocks, 
(Those  crucibles  of  tenets  orthodox)  50 

Have  often  taught  the  heretic  to  shun 
The  fatal  course  his  ancestors  had  run. 


In  se?~vtle  beasts,  &c. 
The  ironical  muse  perhaps  here  has  an  allusion  to  the  finesse  often 
practised  by  the  dealers  in  horses,  who  generally  find  it  politic  to  con 
ceal  the  faults  of  the  beasts  which  they  wish  to  dispose  of. 

4-iih  I   That  litigation,  &c. 
However  strictly  the  laws  are  observed  in  Connecticut,  but  few 
states  in  the  Union  support  such  a  numerous  clan  of  attorneys  as  "  the 
land  of  steady  habi'.s,"  who  all  grow  rich  by  speculating  on  human 
depravity. 

515/7.  Haw  often  taught  the  heretic,  &r. 

The  general  court  of  New-Haven,  in  1658,  passed  a  severe  law 
against  the  quakers,  which  was  introduced  with  the  following  pre 
amble  : 

Whereas  there  is  a  cursed  sect  of  heretics,  lately  sprung  up  in  the 
world,  commonly  culled  quakers,  who  take  upon  them,  that  .they  are 
19* 


222  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive- 

New-Haven. 

Hail,  happy  mistress  of  a  happy  state  ! 

With  blessings  chartered  by  auspicious  Fate ; 

For  whom  kind  Nature,  with  a  liberal  hand,  55 

From  Copia's  horn  pours  plenty  o'er  the  land. 


immediately  sent  from  God,  and  infallibly  assisted  by  the  spirit,  who 
yet  speak  and  write  blasphemous  opinions,  despise  government,  and 
the  order  of  God,  in  church  and  commonwealth,  speaking  evil  of  dig 
nities,  &.C. 

Ordered,  That  whosoever  shall  bring,  or  cause  to  be  brought,  any 
known  quaker  orquakers,  into  this  colony,  shall  forfeit  the  sum  of  fifty 
pounds.  Also,  if  a  quaker  come  into  this  jurisdiction  on  civil  business, 
the  time  of  his  stay  shall  be  limited  by  the  civil  authority,  and  he  shall 
not  use  any  means  to  corrupt  or  seduce  others.  On  his  first  arrival, 
lie  shall  appear  before  a  magistrate,  and  from  him  receive  license  to 
pass  CHI  his  business,  and  (for  the  better  prevention  of  hurt  to  the  peo 
ple)  have  one  or  more  persons  to  attend  upon  him  at  his  own  charge, 
&c.  The  punishments,  in  case  of  disobedience,  were  whipping,  im 
prisonment,  labour,  and  a  deprivation  of  all  converse  with  any  person. 
For  the  second  offence,  the  person  was  to  be  branded  in  the  hand 
with  the  letter  H,  to  suffer  imprisonment,  and  be  put  to  labour.  For 
the  third,  to  be  branded  in  the  other  hand,  imprisoned,  &c.  as  before. 
For  the  fourth,  the  offender  was  to  have  his  tong-ue  bored  through  with 
a  red  hot  iron,  imprisoned,  and  kept  to  labour  until  sent  away  at  his 
-own  charge.  Any  person  who  shall  attempt  to  defend  the  sentiments 
of  the -q linkers,  shall,  for  the  third  offence,  be  sentenced  to  banishment. 
But  these  people,  (continues  the  author  from  whose  Geography  the 
above  is  quoted)  who  have  been  so  much  centered  and  ridiculed,  had 
perhaps  as  rnanv  virtues  as  their  posterity ;  and  it  would  be  wise  in 
the  moderns,  who  stand  elevated  on  the  shoulders  of  their  ancestois, 
ivith  the  book  of  their  experience  open  before  thtm,  to  improve  from 
their  virtues  ar.d  to  veil  thtir  faults. — Stc  J\Iursi?s  Geography— 
Article  Connecticut. 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  223 


New- Haven. 


Here  rural  charms  with  city  beauties  join, 

Here  art  and  nature  every  where  combine ; 

The  colonnade,  the  portico,  and  tower, 

Rise  on  the  turf  that  bears  a  poplar  bower ;  60 

Beneath  the  shade  here  Genius  loves  to  rove, 

And  think  itself  in  Academus'  grove  ; 

Here  thoughtful  Silence  holds  her  chosen  seat, 

For  here  no  deafening  pavements  spoil  the  street  ; 

A  chaise  or  chariot  here  are  heard  no  more  65 

Than  feathers  falling  on  the  felted  floor ; 

Here  I  can  write,  three  stories  only  high, 

In  such  dead  silence  I  could  hear  a  sigh  ; 

No  thundering  carriage  shakes  the  angled  roof, 

Nor  steeds  affright  me  with  the  clashing  hoof;  70 

No  slippery  flags  the  careless  step  betray, 

And  crack  the  skull  on  every  rainy  day ; 

Here,  should  you  fall,  you  lose  no  drop  of  blood, 

But  safe  and  soft  recline  on  yielding  mud  J 

Say,  Heaven-born  Truth  !  say  what  police  you  prize, 
Sordid  and  mean  ? — or  liberal  and  wise?  76 

What  city  e'er  in  arts  or  splendour  shone, 
Where  interest  ruled — where  wealth  was  prized  alone  ? 

64lh  I.  For  here  no  deafening  pavements,  &c. 

There  is  not  a  paved  street  in  the  whole  city;  and  the  soil  being; 
very  sandy,  the  inhabitants  are  deluged  with  dust  in  dry  weather,  and 
xyith  mud  at  all  other  times. 


224  WOODWORTirS.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

Where  self  was  all  that  influenced  every  thought, 
And  individual  profit  only  sought  ?  80 

Truth  answers,  none — and  here  one  instance  shows 
Where  liberal,  public  spirit  never  rose  ; 
The  sad  effects  that  on  this  languor  wait 
Disgrace  the  mistress  of  so  fair  a  state. 
No  decent  pier  receives  the  freighted  bark —  85 

A  cluttered  mud-bank  (dangerous  in  the  dark, 

84th  I.  JVo  decent  pier,  &c. 

The  first  question  asked  a  stranger  who  eaters  New-Haven  by  land, 
is  "  have  you  seen  our  Long-wharf?"  and  on  being  answered  in  the 
negative,  the  vast  politeness  of  "  mine  host"  induces  him  to  conduct 
the  gentleman  all  the  way  through  Fleet- street,  to  visit  this  "  stupen 
dous  fabric  of  human  invention."  If  the  weather  has  recently  been 
uncommonly  fair,  he  may  traverse  it«  whole  extent  without  sinking 
deeper  than  to  his  ancles  in  mud.  Should  the  path  fortunately  be  un 
obstructed  by  plaster,  lumber,  or  carts,  he  may,  as  he  leisurely  pro 
ceeds,  enjoy  a  distant  prospect  of  the  water — survey  the  gallant  rnud- 
scows  and  oj'stcr- boats  on  his  left,  and  a  tottering  row  of  old  wooden 
ware-houses  on  his  right — inhale  the  fragrant  odours  arising  from  the 
docks,  and,  finally,  arrive  at  the  point  which  the  New-York  packets 
are  enabled  to  approach  at  high  water.  After  feasting  his  senses 
with  all  these  beauties,  the  grateful  stranger  returns  with  his  generous 
guide,  consoling  himself  with  the  pleasing  reflection  that  the  same 
delightful  .excursion  will  be  repeated  on  his  embarkation  for  Ntw- 
York. 

Additional  Note.— Since  the  establishment  of  the  Steam-Boat, 
between  New-York  and  New-Haven,  "  things  have  been  managed 
•better."—  Publishers- 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  09;, 

New-Haven. 

Of  length  enormous,  at  whose  timbered  side 

A  pigmy  fleet  of  oyster-boats  may  ride 

Safe  moord  in  mud)  is  all  that  bears  the  name, 

Or  to  a  pier  or  wharf  can  kindred  claim.  90 

Why  does  not  wealth  here  hid  Industry  rise, 

And  from  your  sisters  snatch,  or  share  the  prize  ? 

Give  the  clogg'd  channel  all  its  former  size, 

And  deepen  docks  by  bidding  piers  arise  ? 

So  shall  fair  Commerce  o'er  your  city  smile,  95 

And  weaned  passengers  lose  half  their  toil, 

For  7tis  no  easy  task — to  walk  a  mile. 

Why  do  I  view  these  wooden  frames  arise  ? 
Does  this  bespeak  your  famed  police  too  wise  ? 
Where'er  I  turn  a  block  of  wood  appears,  100 

Seasoird  in  sun-beams  for  successive  years  ; 
A  fatal  spark,  on  some  disastrous  nis;ht, 
Might  on  the  subject  throw  sufficient  light ; 
Then,  like  a  rocket,  you  for  once  would  soar, 
Blaze  for  a  moment,  and  be  seen  no  more  !  105 

But  still  the  threatening  danger  you  defy, 
-Still  bid  new  piles  of  cedar  kiss  the  sky  ! 
By  parsimony  you  would  gain  renown, 
And  risk  a  million  to  secure  a  crown  !  110 

Ignoble  maxim  ! — tear  it  from  the  heart, 
And  bid  your  soil  to  lasting  structures  stall ; 


226  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

The  well  burnt  clay,  or  yonder  bluff,  can  yield 
At  once  both  grace  and  safety's  surest  shield : 
Live  not  in  terror  while  your  interest  claims  115 

Far  fairer  fabrics,  that  defy  the  flames. 


Yon  spacious  "  Green,"  the  city's  boast  and  pride, 
Might  still  have  been  a  barren  common  wide, 
Had  not  a  spirit  worthy  of  the  man, 
Conceived  and  urged  to  execute  the  plan,  120 

To  screen  it  from  a  hackney'd  long  abuse, 
And  consecrate  it  to  a  nobler  use. 
But  he's  a  lunatic  ! — then  justly  own 
That  madness  here  is  liberal  alone. 

\\3th  1.  The  well  burnt  day,  or  yonder  Uuff,  &c. 
A  reference  is  here  had  to  one  of  those  two  rocky  mountains  which 
overlook  the  city  from  the  north,  called  East  and  West  Rocks,  the 
former  in  particular  supplying  very  good  stones  for  building.  The 
rugged  brows  of  these  wood-crowned  heights  are  tinged  with  the 
beams  of  the  rising  and  setting  sun,  while  (he  city  below  is  veiled  in 
the  soft  shade  of  twilight.  A  delightful  prospect  can  be  enjoyed  from 
their  summits,  of  landscapes  beautifully  romantic. 

117th  1.   Yon  spacious  Green,  &c. 

This  is  the  public  square,  situated  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  city, 
termed  The  Green. 

123d  I.  But  he's  a  lunatic,  &c. 

The  reverend  gentleman  who,  at  his  own  expense,  began  to  orna 
ment  this  handsome  promenade  with  a  fence,  trees,  &c.  has,  at  various 
times,  evinced  such  a  spirit  for  public  improvement,  as  to  draw  on  him 
the  imputation  of  being  a  madman, 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S. 


.New-Havt-n 


But  say,  why  is  this  beauteous  promenade,  125 

Where  Nature  glows  in  vernal  vest  array'd, 

Where  Art  with  rapture  would  the  scene  have  traced, 

Deform ?d  by  buildings  and  by  tombs  defaced  ? 

'Tis  not  too  late  to  brush  the  moles  away 

From  Beauty's  face,  and  teach  her  smiles  to  play ; 

For  sacred  ashes  that  have  breathed  and  loved,     131. 

May  be  with  decent  sanctity  removed  : 

And  where  yon  grove  of  youthful  poplars  bloom, 

Transplanted  monuments  may  mark  their  tomb. 

When  once  adopted,  habits  seldom  change,         135 
However  rude,  displeasing,  odd,  or  strange ; 
Hence,  when  you  hear  the  bell,  or  knocker's  din, 
No  servant  comes,  some  voice  exclaims  "  walk  in  !" 
Perhaps  the  visiter  has  only  come 
To  leave  a  card,  or  ask  if  you're  at  home  ;  140 

To  beg  directions  to  another  door, 
Or  just  to  tell,  «  the  chaise  will  call  at  four;" 
No  matter  what,  he  may  for  ever  stand 
Beneath  the  porch,  with  knocker  still  in  hand ; 
'Tis  still  "  walk  in  i"  from  some  interior  room        145 
Beyond  a  passage  veiPd  in  deepest  gloom  5 

133(2  Z.  Jlnd  where  yon  g'rove>  &c. 

The  New  Burying  place,  to  which  many  removals  have  been  made 
from  the  Old,  by  such  unprejudiced  minds  as  think  it  not  sacrilege  to 
remove  human  dust. 


228  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 


New- Ha    -'i. 


Here  he  must  grope  his  "  blind  and  erring  way," 

Fall  o'er  a  chair,  or  through  the  entry  stray, 

Till,  sad  mistake  I  he  gains  the  cellar  or-or, 

And  tumbles  down  a  dozen  feet  or  more.  150 

A  stranger,  who  arrives  to  tarry  here, 
Excites  distrust,  inquiry,  hope,  and  fear ; 
Slander  awakes,  and  fame  her  trumpet  plies, 
Credulity  extends  her  ears  and  eyes, 
While  swift  around  the  secret  whisper  goes,  155 

Till  busy  Rumour  hatches  "  three  black  crows." 
The  strange  proboscis,  though  of  mammoth  size, 
Thro'  wondering  Strasburg  spread  far  less  surprize. 
His  name,  profession,  stature,  age,  and  hue, 
The  reasons  why  he  bade  his  home  adieu,  160 

All  pass  a  female  court  in  critical  review. 


IZQth  I.  And  tumbles  headlong,  &c. 

An  accident  that  actually  happened  to  the  unfortunate  author,  who 
must  consequently  be  supposed  to  write  feelingly  on  the  subject. 

156th  I.  Three  black  crows,  &c. 

This  story  is  humourously  told  by  Dr.  Srnollet,  and  ib  too  familiar 
with  every  reader  to  need  repeating  here. 

157th  1.   The  strange  proboscis,  &c. 

Sterne  tells   us  of  a  man  who  entered   Strasburg  with  such  an 
enormous  nose,  that  the  whole  town  was  thrown  into  confusion. 


Descriptive.  WOODTVORTH'S.  229 

New-Haven. 

Eliza  sips  her  tea,  then  with  a  smile 
Sweet  as  the  damson  which  she  tastes  the  while. 
Informs  the  party,  what  they  long  to  know, 
The  name,  and  so  forth,  of  the  stranger  beau,         165 
Whose  novel  manners  gave  so  much  delight 
To  all  at  Bloomfield's  ball  on  Monday  night. 
••'  O,  cries  Amelia,  'twas  to  Adelaide 
u  His  whole  attention  and  respects  were  paid., 
•••'  She  knew  his  name,  and  if  the  truth  were  known, 
*'•'  I  think,  prefers  it  far  above  her  own  ;  1~1 

••'  What  could  he  see  in  her,  a  very  child ! 
*'•'  Or  she  in  him,  to  be  so  soon  beguiled  ?" 
Jane  eager  answers,  "  I'll  instruct  you  all — 
•'•'  Their  first  acquaintance  was  not  at  the  ball,          173 
"  But,  as  I  live,  on  Sunday  he  was  seen 
•'•'  Gallanting  her  to  church  across  the  (Jrcen  j 

lG2dl.  Eliza  sips  her  tea,  &.c. 

Should  any  individuals  imagine  themselves  alluded  to,  or  pointed  at, 
in  this  picture  of  New-Haven  tea-table  chit  cbaf,  thev  will  surely  have 
the  goodness  not  to  blame  the  poet.  For  every  person  he  profi  Sses  a 
due  respect,  and  for  the  fair  sex,  iti  particular,  he  entertains  a  most 
devout  affection.  But  as  he  has,  through  mere,  politeness,  invited 
Truth  to  accompany  him  on  his  present  little  excursion,  (as  he  has 
frequently  offered  a  play-ticket  where  he  expected  its  non-acceptance) 
he  cannot,  without  deviating-  from  etiquette,  reject  her  Unfashionable 
precepts.  The  unpopularity  of  this  goddess  in  New-Haven,  is  mos>t 
certainly  no  fault  of  his.  V 

20 


230  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive, 

New-Haven. 

"  You'll  laugh  to  think  how  odd  the  fop  must  look 

^  Bearing  her  parasol.,  her  fan  and  book  ! 

"  And  bowing,  as  they  parted  at  the  door  —  180 

"  Now,  did  you  ever  hear  the  like  before  ?" 

"  O  monstrous  !"  cries  Amelia,  "  what  disgrace  ! 

u  How  could  the  girl  in  meeting  show  her  face  ? 

lii  But  after  hearing  love-tales,  I  suspect 

"  That  S*****t's  sermon  had  not  much  effect          185 

"  On  simple  Adelaide,  whose  Sunday's  walk 

<•  Will  be  the  topic  of  the  city  talk. 

"  Her  coxcomb,  too  !  —  what  has  his  breeding  been, 

"  To  have  such  folly  by  the  public  seen  ? 

"  And  at  the  assembly  —  did  he  think  us  brutes?    190 

66  For,  how  ridiculous  !  he  danced  in  boots  !  !  ! 

u  *Tis  whisper'd,  too  —  and  I  believe  the  tale, 

"  He  left  his  native  state  to  'scape  a  jail  ! 


1.  Thai  $*****/'s  sermon,  &c. 
The  reverend  M.  S*****t,  who  like  St.  Paul,  relinquished  (he 
study  and  practice  of  the  law,  to  assist  in  the  promulgation  of  the 
gospel;  but  who  has  unfortunately  smothered  great  wit,  sagacity  and 
ability,  in  the  melancholy  consideration  of  the  calvinistical  dogmas  of 
election,  atonement,  and  predestined  damnation. 

IQQlh  1.  What  7ias  his  breeding'  been,  &c, 

Perhaps  in  no  part  of  the  civilized  world  is  good  breedings  muck 
talked  of,  and  so  little  seen,  as  in  New-Haven.  But  this  fault,  if  it  is 
one,  is  more  attributable  to  heads  than  to  hearts. 


fteseriptire.  WOODWORTH'S.  231 

New-Haven. 

••'  And — keep  the  secret  close — upon  my  life, 

;<  'Tis  known  too  well  he  left  behind — a  wife  !"     195 


The  scandal  flies — and  ere  the  victim  knows, 
He  finds  himself  encircled  by  his  foes  ; 
The  fiend  in  bulk  increases  as  she  flies, 
And  swells  his  crimes  in  multitude  and  size; 
(<  A  base  deserter  from  a  dozen  wives !"  200 

And  had  his  reputation  twenty  lives, 
Beneath  their  venonrd  shafts  'tis  sure  to  die, 
They  pierce  his  bosom,  and  he  wonders  why ; 
But,  worst  of  all ! — a  luckless  maid  is  doom' d 
To  view,  with  his,  her  spotless  fame  entomb'd.       205 

Ye  scritjhtlv  fair  I   X^w-Haven?*  highest  boast. 
Abroad  the  wonder,  and  at  home  the  toast, 
"Denounce  one  fault,  and  lay  resistless  claim 
To  sweet  perfection  and  eternal  fame. 
The  soul-expressing,  soul-inspiring  eye,  216 

The  nectared  lips  that  with  the  ruby  vie  ; 
The  witching  smile  that  o'er  the  visage  plays, 
And  bids  the  fancy  in  delirium  blaze; 
The  dulcet  tone  which  rapt  attention  greets, 
Breathed  through  a  channel  of  unrivall'd  sweets;    215 
The  sprightly  step,  the  graceful,  modest  mien, 
Where  all  the  charms  that  fascinate  convene, 


232  WOODWORTITS.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

Are  soon  eclipsed^  when  prejudice  and  pride, 

With  jealous  envy,  in  the  breast  reside. 

Then  better  prize  your  charms — bid  mental  grace     220 

Superior  lustre  lend  the  speaking  face ; 

Renounce  vile  Slander — Charity  pursue, 

And  angels  may  conceive  of  envy  too. 

Some  such  are  here — O  how  superiour  they ! 
As  blaze  of  noon  surpasses  infant  day.  225 

Yes,  the  proud  boast  is  yet,  New-Haven,  thine, 
External  grace  with  mental  charms  to  join. 
For  while  the  grateful  theme  employs  my  muse, 
A  sister-goddess  she  delighted  views, 
Who  pensive  moves,  with  downcast  eye,  along,      230 
A  lovely  contrast  with  the  gayer  throng ; 
A  temper,  gentle  as  the  glassy  lake 
When  zephyrs  scarce  an  undulation  wake, 
Shines  sweetly  through  the  azure  of  her  eye, 
Charms  in  a  smile,  or  interests  in  a  sigh.  235 

How  lovely,  when  a  melting  tale  of  wo 
Heaves  her  fair  breast  in  mounds  of  virgin  snow, 
Or  from  her  eye  the  crystal  tribute  calls, 
Which,  lingering  on  the  brink,  reluctant  falls, 
And  on  that  cheek  where  softest  crimson  glows,     240 
Rests  like  a  dew-drop  on  the  blushing  rose. 
How  soft  her  accents,  gentle,  winning,  sweet; 
Envy  is  silent  and  her  snakes  retreat : 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  233 

New-Haven. 

The  child  of  Nature,  with  unsullied  heart, 

Improved,  refined,  but  not  restraint,  by  art;          245 

Its  ebullitions  know  no  false  disguise, 

They  flow  from  truth  and  rapture  as  they  rise. 


Soul  of  my  song !  my  song  should  build  thy  fame, 
Dared  my  fond  muse  but  lisp  thy  dearer  name  ; 
But  ere  her  fingers  kiss  the  trembling  wire,  250 

The  "  ghosts  of  former  joys"  untune  her  lyre ; 
The  sighs  of  Sorrow  murmur  as  she  sings, 
And  Memory  breathes  discordance  o^er  the  strings. 
Too  delicate  the  theme. — My  muse,  forbear — 
Divert  sad  Memory  with  a  livelier  air;  255 

More  subjects  yet  remain  for  blame  or  praise, 
New-Haven  yet  demands  the  poet's  lays* 

Your  Fasts  and  Sabbaths  undisputed  claim 
The  meed  of  reverence  and  religious  fame  ; 
Of  these  the  muse  with  due  respect  would  sing,      260 
Nor  let  one  wanton  note  disgrace  a  string ; 
Then  may  not  Malice  construe  wrong  the  strain, 
Nor  dare  reproach  her  with  intents  profane. 
The  streets  deserted,  silence  reigns  around, 
Uninterrupted  by  the  smallest  sound  ;  26.'' 

Till  tlie  loud  signal  from  the  "  Old  Brick"  tower, 
Given  by  Glaus,  proclaims  the  solemn  Lour: 
20* 


234  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 


New-Haven. 


In  quick  response  two  other  fanes  begin, 

With  "  brazen  throat  and  iron  tongue,"  the  din ; 

In  measured  time  the  tones  salute  the  ear,  270 

(For  e'en  bell-ringing  goes  by  method  here) 

The  Brick,  and  Blue,  and  Church,  the  chorus  swell, 

While  raptured  Echo  answers, li  ding  I  dong  !  bell !" 

Still  not  a  passing  foot-fall  can  we  hear, 

Not  e'en  a  mouse  dare  in  the  street  appear,  27^ 

Till,  at  the  second  peal,  from  every  door, 

As  from  the  Trojan  horse,  the  legions  pour, 

Marshalled,  and  clad  in  Sunday's  gay  attire, 

From  span-high  infants  to  the  hoa»y  sire ; 

New-Haven  grace  and  beauty  now  are  seen,          280 

With  pensive,  measured  step,  and  solemn  mien, 

Led  by  their  mothers  o'er  the  dewy  Green. 

Beauty,  secluded  from  the  vulgar  gaze 

For  six  long,  tedious,  and  unhallowed  days, 

Conspires  to  raise  and  solemnize  the  scene;  285 

For  "  angels'  visits,  short  and  far  between," 

Must  sure  impress  the  soul  with  thoughts  divine, 

While  adoration  bows  before  the  shrine. 

But,  on  this  day,  no  anxious  lover  dare 

Confess  his  flame,  or  e'en  salute  the  fair ;  290 

289/A  1.  But,  on  this  day,  no  anxious  lover,  &c, 
The  "  blue -laws"  of  Connecticut  (so  called  from  the  colour  of  the 
yaper  on  which  they  were  printed)  have  never  been  repealed,  though 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  23.5 

New- Haven. 

But,  bliss  supreme  !  he  treads  where  she  has  trod. 

And  meekly  follows  to  the  house  of  God. 

All  enter  there — the  streets  again  are  clear, 

Deserted  dwellings  show  an  aspect  drear, 

And  any  honest  stranger  would  engage  295 

"Twas  owing  to  the  yellow-fever's  rage. 

And  is  there  now  one  being  not  at  prayer, 
Besides  myself  ? — I  thought  each  soul  was  there  ; 
But  yonder  walks  a  man,  with  club  in  paw, 
Who  seems  to  bid  defiance  to  the  law  5  30© 

Onward  he  moves  with  majesty  of  pace, 
Walks  thro'  each  street,  and  searches  every  place. 
What  would  he  do  ? — Ah  J  by  his  looks,  I  fear 
He'll  rob  a  dwelling  while  the  coast  is  clear. 

they  are  not,  at  this  day,  strictly  observed.  While  this  ridiculous 
code  was  considered  in  full  force,  it  was  almost  sacrilege  to  betray  any 
marks  of  tenderness  or  affection  between  the  sexes  on  the  Sabbath.  A 
gentleman  happened  to  return  from  a  long  absence  at  sea  on  Sunday, 
and  so  unexpected!},  that  he  first  met  his  family  on  their  way  to 
church.  Overjoyed  at  the  happy  meeting,  he  imprudently  embraced 
his  wife  on  the  spot,  and  imprinted  on  her  lips  a  kiss  of  connubial 
affection.  Good  Heaven  •  What  consternation  filled  the  breasts  of  the 
gaping  multitude  at  seeing  this  unprecedented  enormity- .'  The  ladies- 
modest  things  !  how  they  blushed !  and  the  gentlemen— how  they 
stared  !  Every  eye  was  at  once  directed  to  the  proper  authority,  and, 
in  mute  eloquence,  implored  redress.  Suffice  it,  that  so  flagrant  a 
violation  of  the  law  was  quickly  punished  by  the  vigilant  police,  and 
the  hapless  husband  condemned  to  pay  a  heavy  fine. 


236  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

But  see  !  he  stops-  and  gazes  with  surprise,  305 

While  pleasure  sparkles  in  his  eager  eyes  ! 

O  tell  me,  Truth,  what  this  strange  man  delights. 

Is  he  an  author  ? — for,  behold  !  he  writes ; 

Some  brilliant  thought  he  wishes  to  retain, 

Just  popp'd  by  accident  within  his  brain.  310 

"  No,  Truth  replies,  his  task  is  thus  to  stray, 

With  book  and  pencil,  on  each  holy  day, 

To  see  if  any  (but  himself)  shall  dare 

Evade  the  law,  and  walk  in  time  of  prayer  ; 

Their  names  he  notes  with  secret  heart-felt  joy,     31 J 

For  rich  reward  awaits  his  curst  employ  5 

The  hapless  wights  the  enormous  fine  must  pay, 

To  appease  the  law  and  mend  the  broken  day  5 

The  pious  Doctor  then  absolves  the  sin, 

Tips  half  the  fee — the  rest  attorneys  win.7'  320 

Justice,  indignant,  hears  the  shameful  tale, 

Sighs  for  her  sword,  and  points  to  Satire's  scale. 

The  mail  arrived  last  night — but,  here  must  stay, 
Nor  can  proceed  another  step  to-day  5 
No  stage-coach  wheels  must  dare  profane  the  roads   325 
On  Sabbath  day,  with  their  ungodly  loads. 
The  anxious  travellers  must  tarry  too. 
Though  dying  friends  may  bid  the  world  adieu  ; 
Business  of  moment  may  their  presence  claim., 
Sickness  and  death,  or  love's  impatient  flame ;        330 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  237 


New-Haven. 


-Tis  all  the  same — the  law  demands  their  stay, 
Wherever  be  their  hearts,  their  lips  must  pray. 
Despatches,  too,  of  highest  moment,  wait, 
While  merchants  suffer  in  the  neighbouring  state; 
Gazettes,  that  tell  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks,          335 
Rich-freighted  vessels  stranded  on  the  rocks, 
Or  safe  arrived,  when  fear  pronounced  them  lost, 
To  save  a  ten-fold  premium's  serious  cost, 
Which  Monday's  sun  will  see  despairing  paid, 
Occasioned  all  because  the  mail  is  staid.  340 

And  are  these  regulations  made  to  prove 
How  dearly  yon  Religion's  precepts  love  ? 
Are  there  no  selfish  views — no  interest  here 
Conceal'd  beneath  her  mantle  ? — Yes,  I  fear 
Throughout  the  whole,  when  all  this  fuss  is  done,   345 
Like  Others,  you  "  take  care  of  number  one ;" 
For  you  are  gamers,  though  the  world  may  lose — 
Have  one  whole  day's  advantage  of  the  news, 
And  speculation  being  still  your  trade, 
How  many  pious  fortunes  thus  are  made  !  350 

Inn-keepers,  too,  by  this,  increase  their  pelf, 
Each  traveller  must  eat,  or  starve  himself. 

But  now,  o'er  western  hills,  the  god  of  day 
Salutes  the  city  with  his  parting  ray : 


238  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descnptn*. 

iNew-Haven. 

Tired  of  his  journey,  he  retires  to  bed,  35-5 

But  scarce  the  watery  couch  receives  his  head, 

Ere  suddenly,  as  if  enchantment  wrought, 

The  scene  is  changed  as  quick  as  human  thought ; 

Bustle  and  noise,  labour  and  sports  begin, 

And  Silence  startles  at  the  direful  din.  366 


Enough  of  satire. — There  are  many  here 
Whom  I  must  ever  love,  respect,  revere ; 
And  actions,  too,  that  merit  lasting  praise, 
Beyond  the  efforts  of  my  humble  la}rs. 
Yon  fair  enclosure,  where  untroubled  sleep  365 

Hearts  that  have  bled,  and  optics  wont  to  weep, 

359//1  /.  Hustle  and  noise,  labour  and  sports  begin,  &c. 
In  Connecticut,  with  the  I'resbj  terians,  Sunday  commences  at  the 
setting  of  the  sun  ou  Saturday  evening,  after  which  moment,  labour 
ana  sports  are  suspended  till  the  same  p^nou  on  Sunday,  wlieu  ui«sy 
are  renewed  with  increue^d  ardour.  This  custom  has,  however, 
varied  a  little  in  New-Haven  since  the  laying  of  the  embargo;  as  this 
evil  was  thought  to  be  a  judgment  of  Heaven,  they  have  adopted  the 
plan  of  attending  divine  worship  on  .Sunday  evening,  thereby  hoping 
to  avert  such  a  curse  jn  future. 

365th  I.  Yon  fan-  enclosure,  &c. 

This  beautiful  spot  deserves  a  particular  description;  and  travellers 
who  may  pass  through  this  city  are  invited  to  visit  it,  with  the  assurance 
that  they  will  never  regret  an  hour  so  employed.  The  New  Burying- 
place  is  situated  at  the  northern  extremity  of  the  city,  just  far  enough 
removed  from  its  noise  and  bustle,  for  retirement  and  calm  reflection. 


descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  239 

New-Haven. 

Invites  my  footsteps — thither  let  me  rove, 
Where  sculptured  stones  adorn  the  poplar  grove ; 
Where  graves,  and  urns,  and  epitaphs  appear. 
And  ask  the  little  tribute  of  a  tear.  370 


Come,  gentle  muse  !  awhile  consent  to  stray 
Beneath  this  doom — for  at  the  close  of  day, 
With  downcast  eye  and  interesting  tear, 
Sweet,  pensive  Melancholy  wanders  here. 
O  how  I  love  to  see  a  due  regard  375 

Paid  to  the  dead,  as  in  this  hallowed  yard  ! 
Wliere  decent  order  over  all  presides, 
And  the  rich  sculptured  stone  the  mourner  guides. 

It  is  perfectly  le.  el,  cai'peited  with  the  richest  \erdurc,  and  is  divided 
into  lots,  of  suitable  dimensions  lor  large  families,  by  a  slight  railing-. 
At  the  head  and  foot  of  each  lot  grows  a  tall  and  flourishing  poplar ; 
so  that  the  whole  has  the  appearance  of  a  beautiful  shady  c  rove,  with 
spacious  alleys,  intersecting  each  other  at  right  angles,  happily  calcu 
lated  for  ambulatory  recreation.  Every  lot  is  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  its  proprieto"  painted  on  the  railing  that  marks  its  boundaries, 
and  the  progress  of  the  art  of  sculpture  shines  conspicuous  in  the  ele 
gant  marble  monuments  that  adorn  it.  The  stones,  tables,  and  urns, 
are  all  white,  and  in  a  moon-li*;ht  evening  produce  a  very  interesting 
eflect.  The  lengthened  shades  of  the  poplars,  the  chequered  gloom, 
the  aspiring  monuments,  the  waving  grass,  and  the.  sighing  breeze,  all 
conspire  to  fill  the  mind  with  sensations  of  awe  mingled  with  an  inde 
scribable  pleasure. 


240  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

Hillhouse  !  'twas  thine  to  give  the  dead  a  place 
Adorn'd  by  art  and  nature's  every  grace ;  380 

To  call  their  ashes  from  chaotic  heaps, 
And  fashion  order  where  the  victim  sleeps ; 
For  this  alone  (if  this  were  all  thy  fame) 
Shall  grateful  honours  gild  thy  lasting  name. 

Here  while  I  stray  beneath  this  poplar  gloom,      385 
Friendship  demands  a  tear  for  yonder  tomb; 
Where,  freed  from  all  the  cares  that  life  attend, 
Reclines  fair  Virtue's  and  the  Muses'  friend. 
When  first  these  grateful  scenes  allured  mine  eyes, 
He  taught  me  where  to  rove,  and  what  to  prize  5       390 
When  pensive  Vesper  led  the  starry  train, 
And  Cynthia's  splendours  mark'd  the  eastern  main, 
Here  would  we  ramble,  while  the  sighing  breeze 
Waved  the  tall  verdure  and  disturb'd  the  trees ; 
Weave  in  our  converse  threads  of  moral  thought,     395 
And  scan  the  truths  surrounding  emblems  taught  ; 

370//t  I.  Hill/iousc,  &.:. 

The  Hon.  James  Hillhouse,  Esq.  who  appropriated  this  spot  for  in 
terring  the  dead. 

3G8//1 1.  Reclines  fair  Virlvtfs  andtlie  Muses'  friend. 
Francia  Kidder,  printer,  who  died  in  the  autumn  of  1G07.     His 
typographical  brethren,  as  a  testimony  of  their  affection  and  respect, 
erected  a  handsome  stone  to  his  memory,  the  first  one  in  this  place 
lettered  in  gilt ;  it  has  since,  however,  been  copied  by  many  others. 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  24  £ 

New- Haven. 

Then  with  warm  ardour  dart  our  rapid  view 

Through  present  clouds  to  scenes  of  brighter  hue ; 

Anticipated  joys  we  hoped  to  share, 

And  in  imagination  revell'd  there ;  400 

Laid  future  plans  of  happiness  and  ease, 

When  Love  and  Fortune  would  unite  to  please ; 

With  rapture  dwelt  upon  the  grateful  theme, 

And  with  regret  dismiss'd  the  waking  dream. 

Yes,  'twas  a  dream  !  and  I  remain  to  prove  405 

That  both  were  shadows,  promised  wealth  and  love, 

Whilst  thou  wert  call'd  from  visionary  scenes 

To  real  pleasures  and  eternal  greens, 

Ere  sad  Experience  taught  the  cruel  truth 

That  shadows  only  tempted  ardent  youth —  410 

Kidder !  'tis  mine  to  wish  that  Heaven's  decree 

Had  snatclrd  us  both  from  this  tempestuous  sea, 

That  life  had  ended  ere  despair  begun, 

And,  as  below  our  hopes,  above  our  joys  been  one. 

Retired  from  sepulchres  and  "  storied  urns,"       415 
The  m.ise  to  yonder  Seminary  turns  ; 

416/A  I.  Yonder  Seminary,  kc. 

Yale  College  was  founded  in  1700,  and  remained  at  Killingsworth 
until  1707,  then  at  Saybrook  until  1716,  when  it  was  removed  and  fixed 
at  New-Haven.  It  has  its  name  from  its  principal  benefactor,  GOT. 
Yale.  There  are  at  present  eight  college  domiciles,  three  of  which, 
each  one  hundred  feet  long,  are  inhabited  by  the  students,  containing 
21 


WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 


New-Haven. 


Magnific  pile,  where  architective  grace 

Shines  in  each  fabric  that  adorns  the  place ; 

But  where  exterior  beauty  but  enshrines 

Far  nobler  treasures — Learning's  richest  mines.      420 

Cradle  of  Genius  !  here  my  willing  muse 
The  tributary  lay  with  joy  pursues  ; 
Obsequious  here  the  song  she  fain  would  raise 
High  as  her  theme,  and  give  deserved  praise. 
But,  ah  !  her  humble  efforts  sink  below  42 

The  rich  encomiums  Justice  bids  bestow  ; 
With  diffidence  she  dares  attempt  the  strain 
Which  classic  bards  may  hear  with  cold  disdain ; 
Fearful  before  Apollo's  sons  she  sings, 
Whose  more  harmonious  lyres  Minerva  strings.      43C 

First,  with  meek  reverence  would  I  enter  where 
Yon  spire  denotes  the  edifice  for  prayer ; 
Access  is  mine,  the  willing  gates  unfold, 
And  Yale's  assembled  sons  mine  eyes  behold ; 
Our  future  statesmen,  patriots,  bards,  divines,         43, 
For  whom  bright  Fame  the  fadeless  laurel  twines, 

thirty -two  chambers  each,  sufficient  for  lodging  two  hundred  students  ; 
a  chapel  forty  by  fifty  feet,  with  a  steeple  one  hundred  feet  high ; 
another  edifice  for  the  library,  &c.  of  the  same  dimensions  ;  a  dining 
hall  sixty  by  forty  feet ;  a  house  for  the  president,  and  another  for  the 
professor  of  divinity  ;  the  whole  pleasantly  situated  west  of  the  Green» 
which  is  spread  before  it. 


descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  24,3 


New -Haven. 


Are  here  convened,  and  in  each  youthful  face 

Their  rising  greatness  Fancy  fain  would  trace. 

Say,  are  not  here  some  souls  that  restless  burn, 

On  life's  great  stage  to  take  an  active  turn  ;  440 

To  rise,  the  awful  pillars  of  the  state, 

And  rival  ancient  Tully  in  debate  ? 

Some  who  possess  a  portion  of  that  flame 

That  gain'd  our  Washington  immortal  fame  ? 

Others,  whose  philanthropic  bosoms  glow  445 

To  shine  like  Franklin  in  relieving  wo  ? 

Whose  philosophic  souls  his  fame  inspires 

To  wield  the  thunder  and  direct  its  fires ; 

To  soar,  on  Learning's  wing,  through  trackless  space, 

View  countless  orbs  and  all  their  movements  trace,    450 

Govenvd  by  order  and  unchanging  laws, 

And  in  effects  behold  the  Eternal  Cause  ? 

Some  glowing  with  a  Homer's  living  fire, 

Design'd  to  "  wake  to  ecstacy  the  lyre," 

To  bid  Columbia's  future  fame  arise,  455 

And  rear  Parnassus  under  western  skies  ; 

Here  fix  the  temple  of  the  tuneful  throng, 

And  rival  Albion's  boasted  sons  of  song  ? 

Or  are  not  here  some  destined  yet  to  shine, 

With  cloudless  lustre,  in  the  desk  divine ;  460 

To  wake  the  soul,  and  guide  its  feeble  view 

To  Him  who  made,  and  can  its  form  renew ; 


244  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

New-Haven. 

Recal  the  wandering  wretch,  his  course  restrain, 
And  gently  lead  him  to  the  fold  again ; 
Arouse  the  careless,  and  support  the  weak,  4G5 

And  gospel  truths  with  voice  unfaltering  speak  ? 

But,  see  !  what  dignity  !  what  ease  and  grace, 
Combine  in  him  who  fills  that  sacred  place  ! 
Renown'd  divine  !  to  thee  my  lays  aspire, 
Thou  reverend  minstrel  of  the  epic  lyre  !  470 

Whose  tuneful  numbers,  when  thou  didst  them  roll, 
Portray  thine  own,  and  rap  the  listening  soul. 
But  when  within  the  sacred  desk  you  stand, 
And  raise  the  eye  devout,  and  spread  the  hand ; 
Or,  from  that  holy  book,  expound  to  youth  475 

Precepts  of  Heavenly  evangelic  truth  j 
What  soul  will  not  enthusiastic  glow 
With  warm  devotion  as  thy  accents  flow  ? 
What  heart  can  cold,  inanimate  remain, 
And  let  thy  matchless  reasoning  plead  in  vain  ?      480 

Hail,  sons  of  Genius  !  youthful  sages,  hail ! 
The  glory,  pride,  support,  and  boast  of  Yale  5 
Your  country's  ornaments  aspire  to  prove, 
And  grace  the  spheres  in  which  you're  call'd  to  move ; 

469//1  /.    Renown'd  divine. 

Dr.  Dwight,  president  of  Yale  College,  and  professor  of  divinity ;  a 
great  scholar,  profound  divine,  and  celebrated  poet. 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  245 

New-Haven. 

So  shall  your  Alma  Mater  rise  in  fame,  485 

And  deathless  honours  decorate  her  name. 

And  here  the  muse  bewails  her  hapless  bard, 

Whose  cruel  fate  such  golden  prospects  marr'd, 

For  Hope  once  whisper'd  to  his  ardent  breast, 

'•'  Thy  dearest,  fondest  wish  shall  be  possess'd"-—     490 

Unfolded  to  his  view  the  classic  page, 

And  all  its  treasures  promised  ripening  age ; 

Show'd  Learning's  flowery  path  which  led  to  Fame, 

Whose  distant  temple  glittered  with  his  name. 

Illusive  all ! — the  phantom  all  believe,  495 

Though  stiil  we  know  her  promises  deceive ; 

Chill  penury  convinced  the  wretch,  too  late, 

Her  words  were  false,  and  his  a  hapless  fate. 

How  many  minds,  that  govern  now  our  fates, 
Rule  o'er  the  nation,  or  direct  the  states,  500 

Were  fashioned  here  ! — the  warrior  and  the  sage, 
And  worthiest  statesmen  of  the  present  age ; 
Bards  like  our  Trumbull,  Barlow,  Humphreys,  Dwight, 
Who  thrill  the  soul  with  rapturous  delight  ; 

503<4  I  Bards  like  our  Trumbull,  &c. 

John  Trumbull,  Esq.  the  author  of  a  poem,  in  copious  wit,  second 
only  to  the  cantos  of  Butler ;  and  in  vigour,  dignity,  and  sweetness, 
superiour  to  the  "  passing  worth  of  Sir  Hudibras." — When  the  politics 
of  "  M'Fingal"  are  forgotten,  the  poem  will  be  read,  repeated,  and 
admired  by  every  lover  of  the  jocund  muse.  This  poem,  comprising 
21* 


246  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive, 

New-Haven. 

And  essayists  grave,  or  politicians  wise,  505 

Who  feel  like  Webster,  or  like  Dana  rise  j 
Chauncey,  the  firmest  pillar  of  our  laws, 
And  Daggett,  eloquent  in  virtue's  cause. 


four  cantos,  was  published  in  1784,  and  has  since  passed  through 
several  editions.  "  The  Progress  of  Dullness,"  "  Elegy  on  the  Times," 
and  several  other  fruits  of  his  genius,  adorn  the  annals  of  American 
poetry. 

Joel  Barlow,  Esq.  commenced  the  career  of  life  by  pursuing  the 
more  flowery  paths  of  literature.  His  "  Vision  of  Columbus,"  his  local 
and  satirical  poems,  and  above  all,  his  admirable  "  Hasty  Pudding," 
have  conferred  on  him  a  degree  of  celebrity  to  which  few  American 
bards  have  attained.  While  in  Europe,  he  published,  among  other 
pieces,  "  The  Conspiracy  of  Kings,"  which  has  been  repeatedly  pub 
lished  in  the  United  States. 

Colonel  David  Humphreys,  the  friend  of  Dwight,  Hopkins,  T rum- 
bull,  Wolcott,  Strong,  and  Barlow,  was  a  distinguished  star  in  this 
constellation  of  geniuses.  The  "  Anarchiad"  is  said  to  be  the  joint 
production  of  these  poets,  whose  primary  design  was  to  chastise  the 
promoters  of  measures  hostile  to  good  faith  and  sound  policy,  which 
were,  at  that  time,  every  where  pursued — the  American  Republic 
being  then  united  but  in  name  What  first  drew  public  attention  to 
colonel  Humphreys  as  a  poet,  was  his  "  Address  to  the  Armies."  His 
next  publication  of  any  note  was  his  poem  "  On  the  Happiness  of 
America."  This  was  followed  by  his  "  Essay  on  the  Life  of  General 
Putnam,"  and  by  his  tragedy,  entitled  "  The  Widow  of  Malabar," 
translated  from  the  French,  first  played  in  May,  and  published  in  Au 
gust,  1790.  A  poem  entitled  "  Industry,"  published  in  Philadelphia, 
in  1794,  was  his  last  production  of  note,  and  the  author  has  now  retired 
to  his  seat  at  Humphreysville,  where  he  has  established  an  extensive 
cloth  manufactory. 


Descriptive.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  24?' 

.New-Haven. 

With  hundreds  more  the  muse  coul<?  grace  her  verse, 
And  bid  her  lyre  their  various  worth  rehearse,         510 
But  these  suffice — nor  must  her  measured  strain 
Swell  to  more  lines  than  these  small  bounds  contain. 


Eve  shuts  her  windows — let  me  now  advance 
Where  the  sweet  viol  leads  the  mazy  dance ; 
Here  Pleasure  warms  the  heart,  and  lights  the  eye,    515 
While  bounding  pulses  to  the  music  fly  ; 
Here  Grace  and  Beauty  hold  their  happy  court, 
And  raptured  Fancy  e'er  delights  to  sport. 
How  innocent,  how  rational  is  this  ! 
Where  health  receives  new  flush  from  virtuous  bliss. 
Hence,  all  ye  sordid  cares  that  peace  destroy  !       521 
Here  bosoms  only  feel  and  throb  to  joy  ; 
Sacred  to  Pleasure  is  the  present  hour, 
Nor  Hate,  nor  Envy  dare  approach  her  bower. 

Dr.  Dwight's  first  poetical  publication  was  the  "  Conquest  of  Ca 
naan,"  an  epic  poem,  in  eleven  books,  printed  in  Hartford,  in  1785, 
and  reprinted  in  London  the  next  year.  In  this  work  the  lover  of 
poetry  will  disco\er  many  passages  highly  poetical,  and  will  probably 
read  the  eleventh  book  with  pleasure,  more  than  once.  The  versifica 
tion,  for  uniform  correctness,  has  seldom  been  surpassed.  In  1794,  he 
published,  in  New-York,  his  "  Greenfield-Hill,"  a  poem  in  seven  parts, 
which,  three  years  afterwards,  was  also  reprinted  in  London.  Be 
sides  these, he  is  the  reputed  authorof  many  smaller  poems,  and  several 
exquisite  pieces  of  unrivalled  merit. 


248  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 


New-Haven. 


The  sweetest  art  of  all  considered  fine,  525 

Is  yet,  New-Haven,  exquisitely  thine. 

There  is  another  source  of  joy,  designed 
To  please  the  senses  and  instruct  the  mind, 
To  you  unknown — for  Prejudice  denies, 
In  this  famed  state,  what  liberal  tastes  must  prize.     530 
I  mean  the  stage — (the  moralist  may  start) 
I  mean  the  stage — improver  of  the  heart  5 
That  holds  the  mirror  up  to  vice  and  crime, 
And  "  shows  the  form  and  pressure  of  the  time." 
Why  is  the  drama  in  this  place  suppressed,  535 

The  treat  with  which  your  sister  states  are  bless'd  ? 
Why,  here  alone,  are  minds  of  taste  deprived 
Of  all  the  joys  from  scenic  arts  derived? 
For  you,  where  Prejudice  still  holds  her  reign, 
Has  Shakspear  wrote  and  Cooper  lived  in  vain.       540 
That  blear-eyed  monster  is  the  deadliest  foe 
That  Learning,  Taste,  and  liberal  Arts  can  know, 
And  here  extends  her  sway : — O  drive  her  hence  ! 
And  wake  to  Candour,  liberty,  and  sense : 
But,  ah  !  I  urge  in  vain — it  cannot  be,  545 

Candour  and  "  steady  habits"  won't  agree  5 
An  age  must  roll — a  century  must  waste, 
Ere  you  attain  your  sisters'  arts  and  taste. 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  249 

New-Haven. 

But,  though  an  infant,  Taste  can  here  be  found, 
Array'd  in  flowers,  her  brow  with  garlands  crown'd, 
And,  when  gay  Flora's  blush  the  town  arrays,      551 
In  Mix's  arbours  she  delighted  plays ; 
Wantons  along  the  winding  paths,  or  treads 
In  sportive  gambols  o'er  the  rosy  beds ; 
Peeps  through  the  foliage  of  the  blossom'd  trees,     555* 
That  freight  with  sweetness  evening's  balmy  breeze  5 
Her  glowing  temple  animates  above, 
And  bids  the  wax  discourse,  the  canvass  move  5 
Swells  Griefs  bright  tear  in  fair  Columbia's  eye, 
And  teaches  Music's  breath  to  sweetly  sigh.  560 

How  happy,  once  ! — here  I  could  careless  stroll, 
And  feel  no  sorrows  preying  on  my  soul ; 

552d  I  In  Mi.c's  arbours,  &c. 

The  Columbian  Gardens,  kept  by  Mr.  Mix,  proprietor  of  the 
Museum,  may  be  considered  the  only  resort  for  rational  recreation. 
Here,  on  a  summer's  evening,  is  sometimes  convened  a  brilliant 
assemblage  of  beauty,  taste,  and  fashion. 

55Tth  I.  Her  glowing  temple,  &c. 

The  Columbian  Museum,  the  rapid  progress  of  which,  towards 
perfection,  reflects  great  honour  on  the  taste  and  industry  of  Mr.  Mix, 
is  justly  styled  "  The  Temple  of  Taste." 

559th  I.  Fair  Columbia's  eye. 

The  Genius  of  Columbia  is  represented,  in  wax,  weeping  at  the 
tomb  of  Washington. 


<->50~  WOODWORTH'S.  Descriptive. 

fVew-lIa\en. 

In  yon  alcove  have  mused,  reclined  and  mute, 

Or  breathed  my  feelings  through  the  pensive  flute ; 

Stray 'd  through  these  alleys,  in  yon  arbour  sat,      565 

QuaffM  the  rich  juice,  and  join'd  in  Friendship^  chat  5 

Here  Love,  too,  sometimes  heightened  every  joy, 

When  smiles  and  roses  only  deckM  the  boy, 

Ere  disappointment  barb'd  his  harmless  dart, 

And  Avarice  tore  it  from  my  mangled  heart.  570 

New-Haven  ! — source  of  all  my  former  joys  ! 
The  demon,  now,  that  all  my  bliss  destroys  ! 
In  you  I  view,  with  just,  impartial  eyes, 
All  that  I  love,  and  much  that  I  despise. 
Though  you  affect  Religion  to  revere,  575 

Her  noblest  precept  finds  few  votaries  here  : 
Sweet  Charity,  fair  offspring  of  the  skies, 
You  know  not,  feel  not,  have  not  learn 'd  to  prize ; 
Truth  bids  me  speak — when  I  the  past  review, 
I  know  not,  feel  not,  charity  for  you ;  580 

'Who,  when  ye  see  Misfortune  on  the  chase, 
Let  loose  a  pack  of  Slander  and  Disgrace  ; 
Hunt  the  poor  wretch  till  he  must  yield  and  die, 
Or,  pierced  with  Censure's  teeth,  ignobly  fly ; 
As  is  the  timid  hare,  by  rustic  clown,  585 

Drove  from  her  form,  pursued,  and  hunted  down. 
Myself,  a  timid  being,  eager  sought 
Your  famed  retreat  for  liberty  of  thought, 


Descriptive.  WOODWORTH'S.  251 

New-  Haven. 

The  term  of  "  steady  habits"  lured  me  here, 

And  Love  detained  for  one  short  happy  year.          590 

But  stern  Misfortune,  by  one  cruel  blow, 

Blasted  my  hopes,  and  laid  my  prospects  low ; 

Then  as  a  fiend  lank  Poverty  pursued, 

And,  huntsmen  like,  the  cruel  sport  you  view'd ; 

*•'  The  game  in  view! — hark,  forward  !"  was  the  cry, 

And.  gash'd  with  wounds,  the  wretch  was  doom'd  to  fly  5 

His  strength  exhausted,  he  despairing  fell, 

And  bade  to  Hope,  and  Love,  and  all,  farewell ! 

Was't  not  enough  he  bow'd  beneath  the  storm  ? 

But  must  you  trample  on  his  prostrate  form,  600 

Torture,  and  view  him  writhe  beneath  the  smart, 

Murder  his  peace,  and  tear  his  bleeding  heart  ? 

O  cruel  malice  !  source  of  his  despair ! 

"  A  wounded  spirit  who,  alas  !  can  bear  ?" 

O  who  can  tell  what  struggles  rack'd  him  here  ?      605 

Who  count  each  bursting  sigh,  each  falling  tear, 

That  forced  their  passage  from  his  aching  breast, 

When  torn  from  prospects  that  had  made  him  blest  ? 

Forbear,  my  muse  !  nor  dare  the  dangerous  theme, 

Recal  not  back  the  past  illusive  dream  ;  610 

Let  dark  Oblivion  shroud  it  with  her  veil, 

And  in  meek  silence  blasted  hopes  bewail. 


Valedictory.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  253 

The  iVlinst:-ei"s>  farewell  to  his  Lyre 

VALEDICTORY. 

THE  MIJVSTREL'S  FAREWELL  TO  If  IS  LYRE. 

When  Fate's  stern  fiat  dooms  fond  friends  to  part, 
What  thrilling  pangs  pervade  the  feeling  heart  ! 
With  ardent  glow  the  proffer'd  hand  is  pressed, 
While  the  moist  eye  bespeaks  the  aching  breast  j 
The  final  gaze,  we,  lingering,  still  renew, 
Dreading  the  last,  the  painful  word — Adieu! 

So  I — a  bird  of  passage — wont  to  rove — 
Have  oft  been  doom'd  to  leave  the  friends  I  love  ; 
Have  oft  been  fated  to  endure  the  smart 
Which  now  afflicts  my  lacerated  heart  ; 
That  heart,  alive  to  every  finer  glow, 
Enrapturing  joy — or  ecstacy  of  wo. 
Then,  friends  of  song,  attend  your  Minstrel's  lay; 
He  sings  but  this,  and  throws  his  lyre  away. 

In  life's  fair  morn,  when  sunshine  warm'd  the  scene, 
And  fairy  hopes  danced  o'er  the  laughing  green, 
His  infant  Muse  essay'd  the  artless  strain, 
On  Charles's  bank,  or  Newton's  verdant  plain  5 
Gave  him  her  lyre,  and  taught  his  hand  to  play, 
While  flattering  Echo  chanted  back  the  lay. 
22 


254  WOODWORTH'e.  Valedictory. 

The  Minstrel's  Farewell  to  his  Lyre. 

Pleased,  like  a  child,  he  fondly  thought  'twas  Fame, 
Ambition  kindled,  and  he  sought  the  dame ; 
Unknowing  where  her  lofty  temple  stood, 
He  pierced  the  grotto  and  explored  the  wood ; 
But  vain  the  search,  in  meadow,  vale,  or  hill, 
The  air-form'd  phantom  flew,  but  answer'd  still. 
Till  tired  Experience  proved  the  sylvan  scene 
Held  not  the  temple  of  ambition's  queen. 

With  fond  regret  he  left  the  calm  retreat, 
Where  Nature's  charms  in  sweet  disorder  meet, 
Diversified  with  meadows,  groves,  and  hills, 
And  Charles's  thousand  tributary  rills — 
Left  rustic  joys,  to  court  the  city's  smile, 
And1  woke  the  strain  in  Beauty's  cause  awhile — 
He  sung  of  love — a  minstrel's  sweetest  dream, 
And  sung  sincerely — for  he  felt  the  theme  ; 
His  soul  was  pour'd  in  every  amorous  tone — 
An  angel  heard,  and  answer'd  with  her  own. 

Columbia  call'd — to  arms  her  veterans  sprung, 
He  felt  the  impulse,  and  of  glory  sung ; 
Swept  o'er  the  chords,  assumed  a  loftier  lay, 
And  vent'rous  dared  with  bolder  hand  to  play. 

But,  ah  !  his  harp  no  blooming  laurel  bears, 
His  humble  brow  no  blushing  garland  wears  j 


Valedictory.  WOODWORTH'S.  255 

The  Minstrel's  Farewell  to  his  Lyre. 

Unknown,  unsought,  he  must  obscurely  sigh. 
Held  from  despair  but  by  affection's  tie ; 
By  love  and  penury  condemned  to  know, 
Like  Leda?s  sons,  alternate  bliss  and  wo. 


Then  Fame,  adieu!  no  more  he  courts  your  charms; 
Welcome,  Retirement !  take  him  to  your  arms  ; 
Here,  gentle  Muse,  he  gives  you  back  the  lyre, 
Whose  tones  could  once  his  youthful  bosom  fire. 
That  lyre  shall  sleep,  nor  breathe  a  tone  again, 
Till  scenes  celestial  claim  the  glowing  strain  ; 
Till  realms  eternal  burst  upon  the  view, 
And  animate  the  wondering  bard  anew. 
Till  then,  farewell !  He  follows  Fame  no  more  j 
But  spurns  the  shrine  at  which  lie  knelt  before —    ' 
Let  Poverty  prepare  her  bitterest  draught, 
And  Malice  barb  his  most  inveterate  shaft — 
The  troubled  dream  of  life  will  soon  be  o'er, 
And  a  bright  morning  dawn  to  fade  no  more. 


WOOBWORTEPS 
SACRED  MELODIES, 


WOOBWORTEPS 
SACRED  MELODIES 


CONSECRATION. 

And  did  I  say,  my  lyre  should  sleep,, 

Because  no  laurels  deck'd  it ; 
That  I  no  more  its  chords  would  sweep, 
Because  its  lay  is  valued  cheap, 

And  all  the  world  neglect  it  ? 
I  did — but  felt  not  then  the  flame 

Which  now  within  me  blazes, 
Nor  reck'd  of  His  eternal  claim, 
Who  gave  the  lyre  to  sing  His  name, 

And  utter  forth  His  praises. 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Sacred. 


Philosophy  and  Theosophy. 


But  now  that  lyre  shall  sleep  no  more, 

Nor  wake  to  earthly  measures  ; 
But  every  strain  it  warbles  o'er 
Shall  that  Eternal  Source  adore, 

Whence  flow  immortal  pleasures. 
No  more  I  prostitute  its  lay 

To  subjects  evanescent  ; 
But  sing  those  scenes  of  endless  day 
Where  angel  harps  in  rapture  play, 

And  praises  flow  incessant. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  THEOSOPHY. 

There  is  a  Philosophy,  hollow,  unsound, 
To  matter  confining  its  false  speculations; 

Whose  flight  is  confined  within  Nature's  dull  round. 
Its  pinions  the  web  of  sophistic  persuasions. 

And  there's  a  Philosophy  truly  divine, 
That  traces  effects  up  to  spiritual  causes, 

Determines  the  link  of  the  chain  where  they  join. 
And  soars  to  an  infinite  height  ere  it  pauses. 

That  meanly  debases  the  image  of  God, 

To  rank  with  the  brutes  in  the  scale  of  creation : 

This  raises  the  tenant  of  light  from  the  sod, 
And  bears  him  to  heaven,  his  primitive  station. 


Sacred.  WOODWORTH»S.  2(jl 

Philosophy  and  'J  heosophy. 

Hail,  science  of  angels  !  Theosophy,  hail ! 

That  shows  us  the  regions  of  bliss  by  reflection  : 
Removes  from  creation's  broad  mirror  the  vail, 

Where  spirit  and  matter  appear  in  connexion. 

It  breaks  on  the  soul  in  an  ocean  of  light, 

She  starts  from  her  lethargy,  stretches  her  pinionsr 

Beholds  a  new  world  bursting  forth  on  her  sight, 
And,  soaring  in  ecstacy,  claims  her  dominions.. 

» 

|A  sense  of  original,  dignified  worth, 

Her  bosom  expands  with  sublime  exultation ; 
She  tastes  immortality  even  on  earth, 

In  light  that  eclipses  the  sun's  emanation. 

Be  sages  and  pedants  to  nature  confined, 

And  the  bat  darkly  flutter  in  Luna's  pale  presence : 

I'll  soar,  like  the  eagle,  through  regions  of  mind, 
Tn  the  blaze  of  that  Sun  which  is  truth  in  its  essence. 


262  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Sacred 

Regeneration. 

REGENERATION. 

A  PARAPHRASE  OF  THE  FIRST  PSALM. 

How  happy  the  man  who  discards  from  his  breast 
The  unhallowed  passions  from  Nature  possess'd ; 
Who  heeds  not  their  counsel  or  softest  persuasion, 
But  treats  them  as  foes  upon  every  occasion. 

Though  the  sunshine  of  peace  such  a  bosom  illumCj 
Or  nights  of  temptation  involve  it  in  gloom; 
Whatever  his  state  be,  with  calm  resignation, 
He  looks  to  the  Word  of  his  God  for  salvation. 

And  the  Word  of  his  God,  like  a  river  of  truth, 
Gives  each  young-budding  virtue  the  vigour  of  youth  j 
While  practical  love  is  still  temper'd  by  reason, 
As  the  green  leaflet  decks  the  ripe  fruit  in  its  season. 

Thus  Regeneration  proceeds  from  the  Word, 
If  we  combat  our  evils,  and  trust  in  the  Lord ; 
Then  prosper,  dear  Saviour,  each  humble  endeavour. 
And  thine  be  the  glory,  for  ever  and  ever .' 


WOOD  WORTHS. 


The  Crucifixion. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 

Weeping  Mary,  bathed  in  sorrow, 
Lingered  near  the  scene  of  horror, 

Where  the  dying  Saviour  hung ; 
From  whose  bursting  heart  arising, 
Groans  of  anguish  agonizing, 

Floated  o'er  His  fever'd  tongue ! 

O  what  sorrow,  deep,  unbounded, 
That  maternal  bosom  wounded, 

Once  the  Saviour's  couch  of  rest  f 
How  she  wept  to  see  Him  languish, 
How  she  trembled  for  the  anguish 

Labouring  in  His  guiltless  breast ! 

Who  could  witness,  without  weeping, 
Gushing  streams  of  sorrow  sweeping 

Down  the  mother's  pallid  cheek  ? 
Who  with  bosom  unrelenting, 
Could  behold  her  thus  lamenting, 

Looking  what  no  tongue  could  speak  ? 

While  such  pangs  as  fiends  invented, 
Still  her  suffering  Son  tormented, 

Scorn  and  bruises,  stripes,  and  death ; 


WOOD  WORTH'S.  Sacred. 


The  Crucifixion. 


She  beheld  Him  thus  expiring, 
Human  friends  in  fear  retiring, 

Whilst  in  groans  He  spent  His  breath ! 

Matchless  mercy !  love  amazing  ! 
Far  above  our  feeble  praising, 

Far  beyond  our  humble  lays  ; 
May  its  influence  never  vary, 
Till  my  heart,  like  that  of  Mary, 

Glow  with  a  seraphic  blaze. 

Gracious  Saviour,  now  in  glory, 
Be  this  sad  affecting  story, 

Deeply  on  my  soul  imprest ! 
May  the  scene  of  such  affliction, 
Bring  the  hardest  heart  conviction, 

Melt  the  most  obdurate  breast ! 


sacred.  WOODWORTH'S.  265 

The  .New  Jerusalem. 

THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 

Rich  in  mercy,  Jesus  reigns, 

Heaven  owns  no  other  king; ; 
Crown  Him,  mortals,  in  your  strains, 

While  His  matchless  grace  you  sing. 
Angels  wake  their  loftier  lays, 

Kindled  from  celestial  fires ; 
Humbler  spirits  bid  His  praise 

Sweetly  flow  from  silver  lyres. 

Mortals  !  catch  the  pleasing  strain, 

Gratitude  demands  the  song — 
Jesus  builds  His  Church  again, 

Where  your  Babel  stood  so  long. 
Truth  divine  her  wall  supports, 

Love  has  paved  her  streets  of  gold : 
Jasper  towers,  and  crystal  courts, 

Gates  of  pearl,  that  never  fold. 

Pilgrims  !  enter,  and  rejoice- 
Here  your  Saviour  holds  His  throne  j 

?Tis  the  City  of  His  choice, 

'Tis  the  Church  He  calls  His  own. 

Precious  gems  on  every  side, 

Heightening  all  her  heavenly  charms — 

>Tis  the  Lamb's  celestial  Bride, 
Smiling  in  her  Husband's  arms. 
23 


266  WOODWORTH'S.  Sacred. 

The  Incarnation. 


THE  INCARNATION. 


$*for  a  Seraph's  golden  lyre, 

With  chords  of  light,  and  tones  of  fire. 

To  sing  that  wond'rous  love 
Which  brought  a  Deity  below, 
To  save  an  erring  race  from  wo, 

And  give  them  joys  above. 

O  may  that  love  inspire  my  soul 
Till  such  ecstatic  numbers  roll, 

As  are  by  angels  given  ; 
To  tell  Redemption's  wond'rous  plan, 
"How  Heaven  descended  down  to  man. 

That  man  might  rise  to  Heaven. 

His  creatures  fell — no  pitying  eye, 
No  powerful  arm  to  save,  was  nigh, 

Or  aid  our  feeble  powers  ; 
Jje  saw — He  came — He  fought  alone. 
And  conquered  evils  not  his  own, 

That  we  might  conquer  ours. 

Temptation's  thorny  path  He  trod, 
In  form,  a  man — in  soul,  a  God? 
And  trod  the  path  alone  j 


Sacred.  WOODWORTII'S. 


The   Incarnation. 


In  vain  the  direst  fiends  assaiFd, 
His  mighty  arm  of  power  prevail'd, 
And  hell  was  overthrown. 

He  pass'd  the  dismal  vale  of  death — 
The  human  form  resign'd  its  breath, 

And  like  a  mortal  died ; 
But  death  was  crush'd  beneath  His  feet; 
He  rose  a  God  and  man  complete, 

His  human  glorified. 

Amazing  Mercy  ! — love  immense  ! 
Surpassing  every  human  sense, 

Since  time  and  sense  began  ! 
That  man  might  shun  the  realms  of  pain., 
And  know  and  love  his  God  again, 

His  God  became  a  man  ! 


WOODWORTH'S.  Sacred. 


Miriam's  Son 


MIRIAM'S  SONG.* 

THE  LORD'S  VICTORY  IJV"  TEMPTATION. 

Sing  to  Jehovah  an  anthem  of  praise, 
And  tell  of  His  glory  in  rapturous  lays  5 
Sing  of  His  triumphs  when  demons  assaulted, 
When  hosts  of  infernals  His  human  assail'd, 
The  hells  were  subdued,  and  the  Victor  exalted  — 
Like  man  He  was  tempted  —  like  God  He  prevailM. 
Sing  to  Jehovah  an  anthem  of  praise, 
And  tell  of  His  triumphs  in  rapturous  lays. 

Praise  Him,  ye  ransom'd  —  He  conquered  for  you, 
Who  fled  from  your  sins,  and  beheld  them  pursue  ; 
Whelming  your  spirits  in  deep  tribulation  ; 
But  Jesus  was  present,  a  pillar  of  fire,t 
\nd  led  you  in  safety  through  seas  of  temptation, 
In  which  you  beheld  each  assailant  expire. 
Sing  to  Jehovah  an  anthem  of  praise, 
And  tell  of  His  triumphs  in  rapturous  lays. 

*  And  Miriam  the  prophetess,  the  sister  of  Aaron,  took  a  timbrel 
in  her  hand  ;  and  all  the  women  went  out  after  her  with  timbrels  and 
with  dances.  And  Miriam  answered  them,  sing  ye  to  the  Lord,  for 
he  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ;  the  horse  and  his  rider  hath  he  thrown 
into  the  sea.  —  Exodus  xv.  20,  21. 

f  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  in  the  morning  watch  the  Lord  looked 
unto  the  host  of  the  Egyptians  through  the  pillar  of  fire.  —  xiv.  24>, 


Sacred. 


WOOD  WORTH'S. 


269 


Miriam's  Son 


Praise  Him  who  conquer'd  our  spiritual  foes, 
When  fierce,  like  an  army  of  horsemen,  they  rose, 
Threat'ning  again  in  their  shackles  to  bind  us ; 

Through  billows  of  trouble  He  led  us  to  shore, 
While  the  horse  and  his  rider  were  founder'd  behind  115;, 
O'erwhelm'd  in  the  gulf,  to  assail  us  no  more. 
Sing  to  Jehovah  an  anthem  of  praise, 
And  tell  of  His  triumphs  in  rapturous  lays. 


23* 


WOODWORTH'S.  Sacred. 

---_  .       ,—,-,-_«__,  -_    .-j    -.  — , 1         —-!_..  -    - 

Open  the  Door. 


OPEN  THE  DOOR.* 

That  God,  who  calls  the  human  mind 
A  temple  for  himself  designed,! 

A  house  upon  a  rock — | 
Assures  us  He  will  patient  wait, 
In  mercy,  at  the  mental  gate, 

And  for  admittance  knock. 

Who  hears  the  gracious  call  within. 
And  draws  the  iron  bolts  of  sin, 

Which  barricade  the  door, 
Will  banquet  with  a  guest  divine, 
On  life-imparting  food  and  wine, 

From  Love's  exhaustless  store. 

Come,  then,  dear  Saviour — be  my  guest, 
Knock  louder  at  this  flinty  breast, 

And  rouse  me  with  thy  voice  5 
Then  will  I  struggle  to  remove 
The  sins  which  now  obstruct  thy  love, 

And  in  that  love  rejoice. 

*  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock  :  if  any  man  hear  my  voice, 
and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him  aud  will  sup  with  him,  and  be 
wit-!  iw. —  Revelation  iii.  20. 

f  See  I.  Cor  iii   16.     11.  Cor.  vi.  16. 

t  See  Matthew  vii.  24. 


Sacred. 


WOOD  WORTH'S. 


Open  the  Door. 


Thou  wilt  not  let  me  strive  in  vain — 
The  gates  of  brass  shall  burst  in  twain, 

The  iron  bars  shall  fall ; 
Then  will  my  soul  thy  temple  be, 
\Vhere  I  shall  ever  feast  with  Thee? 

My  God,  my  life,  my  all ! 


•27:2  WOOD  WORTH'S.  Sacred. 


Sin  no  more 


SIN  NO  MORE.* 

A  song  of  gratitude  begin, 
To  praise  the  God  who  saves  from  sin  ; 
Who  marks  the  penitential  tear 
And  deigns  the  contrite  sigh  to  hear ; 
Who  whispers  hope,  when  we  our  sins  deplore — 
"  Thy  God  condemns  thee  not — offend  no  more.'*1 

But,  ah !  such  love  can  ne'er  be  sung — 
Such  boundless  grace  ! — by  mortal  tongue  ; 
For  e'en  celestial  minstrels  deem 
Their  highest  skill  below  the  theme  ; 
Yet  mortals  can,  with  gratitude,  adore 
The  God  who  pardons  all  that  sin  no  more. 

Dear  Lord  !  is  this  condition  all  ? 

To  fight  the  foes  that  wrought  our  fall  ? 

Thus  arm'd  with  hope,  I'll  quell  a  host, 

Nor  let  so  cheap  a  heaven  be  lost ; 
O  then  repeat  the  sweet  assurance  o'er, 
"  Thy  God  will  not  condemn  thee — sin  no  more." 

*  And  Jesus  said  unto  her,  neither  do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go,  and  sin 
no  more. — John  viii.  11. 


Sacred.  WOOD  WORTH'S.  2?3 

God  in  His    I'emplt. 

GOD  IN  HIS  TEMPLE. 

God  is  in  His  holy  Temple, 

Sons  of  earth,  be  silent  now  ;* 
Hither  let  the  saints  assemble, 

And  before  His  footstool  bow. 
Lo,  He's  present  with  us  ever, 

When  assembled  in  His  name  ;t 
Aiding  every  good  endeavour, 

Guiding  every  humble  aim. 

God  is  in  His  holy  Temple, 

7Tis  each  renovated  mind;f 
Where  the  purer  thoughts  assemble, 

While  the  base  are  cast  behind. 
Every  earthly,  low  affection, 

Long  opposed,  is  silent  now ; 
Every  passion,  in  subjection, 

Must  at  Wisdom's  altar  bow. 


*  The  LorrI  is  in  His  holy  Temple  5  let  all  the  earth  keep  silence 
before  him.     Hab.  ii.  20. 

•f-  For  where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name,  there 
am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.     JUatthem  xviii.  20. 

i  Ye  are  the  Temple  ofGod,  1.  Cor.  iii.  16.  II.  Cor.  vi.  16. 


274  WOODWORTH'S.  Sacred. 

God  in  His  Temple. 

God  is  in  His  holy  Temple, 

7Tis  the  church  He  calls  His  own, 
"Tis  the  city  where  assemble 

All  who  worship  Him  alone.* 
New-Jerusalem  the  holy 

Is  the  city  of  our  God, 
There  our  Saviour  governs  solely, 

With  the  balance  and  the  rod. 


God  is  in  His  holy  Temple, 

?Tis  the  Body  of  our  Lord  ;f 
Infidels  may  doubt  and  tremble, 

We  have  learn'd  it  from  His  WORD  ; 
From  that  WORD  which  wrought  creation,! 

From  that  WORD  which  flesh  became,^ 
Which  alone  can  ^ive  salvation — 

God  and  Jesus  are  the  same.  1 1 


*  And  F  saw  no  temple  therein;  for  the.  Lord  God  Almighty  and 
the  Lam!;  are  the  temple  of  it — the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof.  Rev. 
sxi.  22,  23. 

f  Tie  spake  of  the  temple  of  His  body.  John  ii.  21.  God  was  in 
Christ,  reconciling  the  world  to  Himself.  //.  Cor.  v.  19. 

|  All  things  were  made  by  Him.     Jo/in  i.  3. 

§  The  Word  was  made  fltsh,  and  dwelt  among  us.     John  i,  14. 

[I  Jesus  said — I  and  my  Father  are  one.    Jo!m  x.  30. 


Sacred.  WOODVVORTH'S. 


Redemption. 


REDEMPTION. 

Redemption  claims  our  highest  lays, 
To  Jesus  Christ  belongs  the  praise  ; 
The  lofty  theme  should  fire  the  soul, 
And  music's  richest  numbers  roll. 
Our  blest  Redeemer  is  the  God  we  own, 
Then  swell  the  chorus  to  His  name  alone. 

Unseen,  unknown,  and  unreveal'd,* 
No  creature's  eye  our  God  beheld, 
Till  He  the  wond'rous  work  begun, 
And  show'd  the  Father  in  the  Son  ;t 
Jehovah  now  as  Jesus  Christ  is  known, 
Then  swell  the  chorus  to  His  name  alone. 


*  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time.     John  i.  18. 

Dwelling  in  the  light  which  no  man  can  approach  unto ;  whom  no 
man  hath  seen,  nor  can  see.  Tim.  vi.  16. 

Thou  canst  not  see  my  face  ;  for  there  shall  no  man  see  me,  and  live. 
Exodus  xxxiii.  20. 

f  Philip  saith  unto  Jesus,  Lord,  show  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth 
us.  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet 
hast  thou  not  known  ME,  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen  ME,  hath  seen 
the  Father  ;  and  sayest  thou  then  show  us  the  Father  ?  /  am  in  the 
Father  and  the  Father  in  ME.  John  xiv.  8, 9, 1 0, 1 1 . 


276  WOODWORTirS.  Sacred. 

Redemption. 

From  heaven  His  pitying  eye  survey'd* 
The  ruin  sin  on  earth  had  made  j 
He  saw  His  cmitures  run  the  road 
Which  led  from  happiness  and  God ; 
He  saw,  and  saved — the  work  was  all  His  own, 
Then  swell  the  chorus  to  His  name  alone. 


Swift  from  supernal  realms  of  day, 
Seraphic  minstrels  wing'd  their  way, 
To  hail  the  great  Redeemer's  birth, 
And  publish  peace  to  men  on  earth  : 
*'•'  To  God  give  glory7' — sung  the  joyous  throng, 
Let  men  and  angels  still  repeat  the  song. 

Alas  !  no  human  accents  can 

Express  the  love  of  God  to  man  ; 

Who,  to  redeem  a  sinful  worm, 

Assumed  the  human  mind  and  form; 
WTas  born  a  man,  that  man  might  be  re-born  ! 
Then  let  us  praise  Him  on  His  natal  morn. 

*  The  Lord  looked  down  from  heaven  upon  the  children  of  men, 
to  see  if  there  were  any  that  did  understand,  and  seek  God. 

They  are  all  gone  aside,  they  are  all  together  bee x  me  filthy  :  there 
is  none  that  doeth  good,  no,  not  one.  Psalm  xiv.  3, 4. 


Sacred.  WOOD  WORTH'S. 


The  Nativit. 


THE  NATIVITY. 

Strike  the  loud  anthem  to  hail  the  blest  morning, 

Jesus  the  Saviour  an  infant  appears  ; 
Lo!  in  the  East,  a  new  day-spring  is  dawning!* 
Hark  !  the  glad  tidings  which  sound  in  our  ears  .' 

On  this  auspicious  morn, 

To  us  a  child  is  born,t 
Glory  to  God  in  the  highest  be  given  ; 

Hail  our  Redeemer's  birth  — 

Good  will  and  Peace  on  earth  — 
Man  shall  again  have  conjunction  with  Heaven. 

Hark  !  'twas  the  voice  of  a  seraph  that  sounded  — 

Shepherds  of  Judea  start  with  surprise, 
While,  with  a  radiance  of  glory  surrounded, 

Troops  of  bright  angels  descend  from  the  skies. 

Now  loud  the  choral  strain 

Swells  round  the  happy  plain, 
Glory  to  God  in  the  highest  be  given  ; 

Hail  our  Redeemer's  birth  — 

Good  will  and  Peace  on  earth  — 
Man  shall  again  have  conjunction  with  Heaven. 

*  The  day-spring  from  on  high  hath  visited  us.     Luke  i.  78. 

f  Unto  us  a  Child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given,  and  the  govern 
ment  shall  be  upon  his  shoulders  ;  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Won 
derful,  Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prinee 
of  Peace.  Isa.  ix.  6. 

24 


278 


WOODWORTH'S. 


Sacred. 


The  Nativity. 


Hail  to  the  Saviour,  descending  from  Heaven, 

To  build  him  a  kingdom  which  never  shall  cease ^ 
The  Child  that  is  born  and  the  Son  that  is  given, 
Is  God  everlasting,  the  great  Prince  of  Peace. 

Praise  Him  with  grateful  lays, 

Pour  forth  the  soul  in  praise; 
The  government  rests  on  His  shoulders  alone: 

In  Him  the  Godhead  dwells 

Which  has  subdued  the  hells ; 
And  God  the  Creator,  as  Jesus  is  known. 


Sacred.  WOODWORTH'S. 


279 


True  Worship. 


TRUE  WORSHIP, 

THE  SACRIFICE  OF  THE  HEART. 

How  shall  we  sinners  come  before* 
Our  blessed  Saviour's  dazzling  throne  ; 

Or  how  acceptably  adore 

The  great  redeeming  God  we  own  ? 

Shall  fallings  on  His  altar  burn, 
Or  oil  in  bounteous  rivers  flow  ? 

Will  God  be  pleased  with  such  return, 
For  all  the  mighty  debt  we  owe  ? 

Or  shall  we  burst  the  tenderest  tie 

That  binds  the  throbbing  seat  of  sense^ 

And  with  our  body's  offspring  buy, 
A  pardon  for  our  soul's  offence  ? 


*  Wherewith  shall  I  come  before  Jehovah,  and  bow  myself  before 
the  high  God  ?  Shall  I  come  before  him  with  burnt-ofTerings,with  calves 
of  a  year  old  ?  Will  Jehovah  be  pleased  with  thousands  of  rams,  or 
with  ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil  ?  Shall  I  give  my  first-born  for  my 
transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  of  my  soul  ?  He  hath, 
showed  thee,  O  man,  what  is  good  :  and  what  doth  Jehovah  require 
•fthee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with 
thv  Gcd  ?  Micah  ri.  6  to  8. 


280  WOODWORTH'S.  Sacred. 

True  Worship. 

Ah  !  no — a  humble,  contrite  heart, 
Is  all  the  offering  God  requires  5 

Our  only  sacrifice,  to  part 
With  evil  loves  and  false  desires. 


O  let  us,  then,  no  longer  stray 

Along  the  dangerous  paths  we've  trod  5 
For  he  has  plainly  showed  the  way 

Which  will  conduct  us  back  to  God. 

?Tis  but  to  regulate  the  mind 

By  the  pure  precepts  of  His  word  ; 

To  act  with  truth  and  love  combined, 
And  humbly  imitate  the  Lord. 


WOODWORTH'S.  281 


True  Worship. 


SEEK  YE  THE  LORD. 

Ye  sons  of  men,  come,  seek  the  Lord,, 
While  yet  He  may  be  found  ;* 

He'll  meet  you  in  His  holy  word,, 
Where  love  and  truth  abound. 

Call  on  Him  while  He  yet  is  near 

To  hear  a  sinner's  call  5 
A  humble  penitential  tear 

Will  never  vainly  fall. 

Let  man  forsake  the  sinner's  road, 
Discard  each  vicious  thought, 

Return  to  Jesus,  as  his  God, 
And  be  by  Jesus  taught  j 

Then  will  the  Lord  his  mercy  show  5 

His  pardon  freely  give  ; 
Then  man  his  only  good  will  know, 

And  in  that  knowledge  live. 


*  Seek  ye  Jehovah  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye  upon  him  while 
he  is  near.  Lei  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man 
his  thoug-hts  ;  and  let  him  return  unto  Jehovah,  and  be  will  have  mer 
cy  upon  him,  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon. 

Isa.  iv.  6,  7. 

24* 


282  WOODWORTH'9.  Sacred. 

Regeneration. 

FIRST  STATE  OF  REGENERATION. 

There  is  a  world — the  world  of  mind, 
By  neither  time  nor  space  confined  ; 
And  when  we  cease  in  flesh  to  dwell, 
That  world  will  be  our  heaven  or  hell. 

By  fallen  nature,  'tis,  alas  I 
A  rude,  chaotic,  shapeless  mass  ;* 
•Devoid  of  goodness,  truth,  or  light, 
And  veiPd  in  blackest  shades  of  night. 

.But  He  who  gave  creation  birth, 
Can  re-create  this  mental  earth ; 
For  this  His  spirit,  like  a  dove,t 
Broods  o'er  our  secret  thoughts  in  love. 

If  we  consent  to  be  renew'd, 

And  wish  our  evil  lusts  subdued  ; 

"  Let  there  be  light,"  He  says,  and  straight 

We  see  our  low  disorder'd  state. 


*  And  the  earth  was  without  form  and  void  ;  and  darkness  waf 
upon  the  face  of  the  deep.     Gen.  i.  2. 

t  And  the  spirit  of  God  jnoyed  ypon  the  face  of  the  waters. 

Gen.  i.  2, 


Sacred.  WOODWORTH'S.  O&3 

Regeneration. 

Then  do  we  seek  to  know  the  Lord, 
Receive  instruction  from  His  word  ; 
While  He  divides  the  day  from  night, 
And  we  proceed  from  shade  to  light. 

Lord,  let  thy  spirit,  like  a  dove, 
Brood  over  all  our  souls  in  love, 
Then  give  us  light  our  state  to  see, 
And  we  will  give  the  praise  to  thee. 


SECOND  STATE  OF  REGENERATION. 

Our  God  can  re-create, 
And  form  the  soul  anew; 
And  all  who  will  co-operate, 

Shall  find  His  promise  true. 

t 

When  we  permit  His  light 
Our  evils  to  reprove, 
And  then  those  evils  boldly  fight, 
He  will  the  whole  remove. 

Though  hard  the  contest  prove^ 
And  doubtful  seem  the  fray, 
He  hovers  o'er  us  with  his  love, 
Till  we  have  gain'd  the  day. 


284  WOODWORTH'S.  Sacred. 

Regeneration. 

The  Lord  will  then  create 
A  firmament  sublime, 
Celestial  thoughts  to  separate 

From  those  of  sense  and  time.' 


We  then  no  more  believe 
The  work  to  be  our  own  ; 
But  all  of  good  that  we  receive 
Ascribe  to  God  alone. 

Thus  will  a  second  birth 
Form  heaven  in  the  soul, 
And  man,  a  new  created  earth^ 
In  order's  orbit  roll. 


FINIS. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

Sketch  of  the  Author's  Life,    -     r  •*  >  •»  -  -  3 

The  Minstrel,  -  IS 

The  Flowers  of  Life,      -  15 

Evening,        -         -                  •-._'               -  ,  -  17 

I  love  to  hear  the  flute's  sweet  notes,          -  •  19 

Friendship,              -         -                   -        "".»   ;-  -  20 

The  Tomb  of  Henry,     -^  -  22 

Edwin  Delile  -  21 

Autumnal  Reflections,     -     •-—  f~ --^--rr*   .  ^  25 

Beauty                                                         -y  .  27 

To  a  Nosegay,        -     »  -        «•        *  *  .    •   "  -  28 

Female  Ornaments,         -         -         -         -  -29 

The  Wreath  of  Love,     -      <  -        -         »    .  ^  30 

Nature  and  the  Passions,      :    --'-     ,*       ?V  •  32 

To  the  Rev.  John  Hargrove,             -      '  ;»  ^  -  34 

To  Miss  H.            t        -        -     .  ,..;  .    .  .  3^ 

Flatbush,       -                         -  j»  =    :#V     -  »  73 

The  Meeting,                ..  -       ^-  \     -        .  ^  39 

Fashion,         -        >.-,..    :]••..     «         •        *  .  .  40 


286  CONTENTS. 


Love  in  Camp,       -  - 

To  Catharine — Yes  or  No, 

A  Kiss,          -      '  -   '   ;.-  •     t   » 

Variety,         -        -        -  -        - 

The  Journey  of  Love,     - 

Good  Morning,       - 

Giving  and  Receiving,    *  ••"•      - 

Harriet's  Favourite  Poems,      - 

The  Rose-Bud,    -  - 

The  Pilgrim, 

The  Sigh,      - 

To  Mary,    |  - 

The  Reconciliation,         -  S  .• 

Zorayda  to  Selim,  - 

Selim  to  Zorayda, 

Zorayda  to  Selim,  -         -  V 

Selim  to  Zorayda, 

Zorayda  to  Selim, 

The  Harbour  of  Happiness,    ^ 

A  Dream,    -  -    -  -  - 

The  Poplar, 

Time,  the  Physician  of  Disappointed  Love, 

My  Mother's  Grave,        -     •  •>    ' 

Monody  on  the  Death  of  a  Friend,  •  '* 

On  the  Death  of  an  Infant,       •      -  - 

On  the  Death  of  a  Child, 

Qn  the  Death  of  a  favourite  Kitten, 


CONTENTS.  287 


Page. 

Ode  for  the  Juvenile  Patriots,            -         -         -  91 

Ode  2 — for  Independence,       -                            -  93 

Ode  3 —            tdo.                   ....  96 

Ode  4 —              do.          -        V       -    ,     -         -  98 

Ode  5 — Typographical  Celebration,                   -  101 

Ode  6 —             do.         -        do.                          -  105 

Ode  7 —             do.         -do.                          -  108 

Ode  8—             do.         -        do.       -  \               -  110 

Ode  9—             do.                 do.      ^                  -  112 

Ode  10 —            do.         -        do.       i                   -  114 

The  Bugle,             -                  -         -         -        -  116 

Presidential  Inauguration  Ode,                             -  117 

Hibernia's  Tears,                                                    -  119 

The  Exiled  Harper,        «•                                      -  120 

The  Irish  Orphan,                                                  -  123 

Victory  No.  1 — Constitution  and  Guerrierre,      -  126 

Victory  No.  2 — Wasp  and  Frolic,     -         -         -  128 

Victory  No.  3 — United  States  and  Macedonian,  130 

Victory  No.  4 — Constitution  and  Java,      •    .     -  132 

Victory  No.  5 — Hornet  and  Peacock,        -         -  136 

Victory  No.  6 — Enterprise  and  Boxer,      -,        -  138 

Victories  No.  7  and  11 — Erie  and  Champlain,  140 

Victory  No.  8 — Saratoga  and  Morgiana,    -         -  142 

Sew- Year  Address,  for  1813,                                -  145 

New-Year  Address,  for  181-6,                               -  152 

New-Year  Address,  for  1811,            ...  153 

First  Lesson  of  Love,      -    .    -        -        .        -  169 


285  CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Second  Lesson  of  Love,  -         -     •:•./••  -     170 

Third  Lesson  of  Love,   ..-        ,*v   ,   «•-  » '  i&  -     172 

Cupid's  Lamentation,      -         -     -  %  •       _  -     175 

The  Old  Maid's  Complaint,    fe%     T*     -  -     177^ 

The  Whiskers— a  Tale,  -    ,; >  ,.    ,.  •  .     173 

The  Inexperienced  Barber,  -  -  -  -182 
Quarter-Day,  or  the  Horrors  of  the  First  of  May,  1 87 

New-Haven,        ,,-  -         -         -  -218 

Valedictory,  .•  -  253 

Sacred  Melodies,  -  -  257 
Consecration,  -  ...  .259 
Philosophy  and  Theospphy,  -  -  260 

Regeneration,         -  -  -  262 

The  Crucifixion,    -  ....     263 

The  New-Jerusalem,       ...         .,.-  ,  .     260 

The  Incarnation,     -  ..;       .         ^  »     266 

Miriam's  Song,       -  -         -   <      u  >f  268 

Open  the  Door,      -        .-p*     -         -       /.  .    270 

Sin  no  more,       .,-•      ,-;    ,>;-         -         -  -     272 

God  in  His  Temple,        ••  <    ,;?••'     -v,      -  -     273 

Redemption,  -      .  •"-•••'•^-r-'    -         -  -    275 

The  Nativity,        >- .       -         -      :  »-..'     .,  *  .    277 

True  Worship,  the  sacrifice  of  the  heart  -    279 

Seek  ye  the  Lord,  -         -   ;-:«»,     -f  -     281 

First  state  of  Regeneration,          ;  ~-      Tv-  -    282 

Second  state  of  Regeneration,          --,>    >»\  .    283 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWI 

LOAN  DEPT. 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last 
«  .a  *.  date 


below 
b 


LD21A-30m-10,'73 
(B3728slO)476— A-30 


.General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


